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fziAlisktrf 'Jtan&x&fo. by JohrvJ&m^JrTat^- 



. 



Xaies of i&omance, 



WITH OTHER POEMS, 



INCLUDING 



SELECTIONS FROM PROPERTIUS. 



BT 



SLv- CHARLES A. ELTON, 



AUTHOR OF A TRANSLATION OF HESIOD. 



Ludere quae vellem calamo. virg. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, FLEET-STREET; 

W. GUTCH, BRISTOL; A. CONSTABLE AND CO.; 

AND MANNERS AND MILLER, EDINBURGH ; 

AND M. N. MAHON, DUBLIN ; 

By W. Buhner and Co. Cleveland-Row, St. James's. 




\ v 









Steep is that vision'd mount, and lifted high 
Above the world's dim vale the few ascend, 
Who with their locks heaven's purple am'ranth blend, 

A wreath, which envy, hate, nor calumny 

Shall wither; such as binds the poet's brow, 
Who, with his own enthusiast fancies pale, 
Fram'd Thalaba's most wild and wonderous tale ; 

Or his the bard, who caught the fiery glow 

Of inspiration from that minstrel old 

Last of his race, and to high musings wrought 

The strains of chivalry and faery roll'd 
With eye-enkindling ecstasy of thought : 

Yet be not theirs reproach or scorn, who wind 
The midway path ; and while their limbs are laid 
Beneath some twilight elm-tree's whispering shade, 

Cull the chance-flowering weeds, that idly twin'd 

May waste their fragrance on the passing hour; 
Lady ! whoe'er thou art, that on my lay 

Shalt haply muse, and the slight crimson feel 
O'er thy transparent cheek in pleasure steal, 

While through the lattice of thy secret bowe 
Gleams the faint yellow of departing day; 

Know that my wishes here shall bounded be, 

Of fame unheeding, if 1 please but thee I 



CONTENTS. 



TALES OF ROMANCE. 



The Trumpet of Death. 


page 5 


Robert King of Sicily. 


9 


The Enigmas. 


18 


Theodosius the blind Emperor. 


21 


The Knight and the Lion. 


25 


The Devils who catch Men. 


28 


Giron the Hunter. 


33 


The Pit of Temptation. 


36 


The Hound and the Falcon. 


39 


The Legitimate Son. 


43 


The Brazen Image. 


46 


The Duke's Feast. 


50 


Chiomara, a Monodrama 


61 


MUSINGS. 





A Reflection on Sunday Morning. - 67 

Retrospection. - - - 70 

Anticipation. 75 

Sympathy, excited by inanimate Nature - 79 

Dreams. - 81 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Elegy I. - page 91 

II. - - 92 

III. .... 95 

- IV. - - - 97 

- V. - - - - - 99 

VI. - - - - 101 

VII. - - 103 

VIII. .... 105 

IX. 10T 

X. 109 

XI. 113 

XII. - - -115 

- XIII. - - - 117 

XIV. - - - 120 

. XV. - - - 122 

XVI. - - - 124 

XVII. - - - 127 

XVIII. 129 

XIX. - 132 

XX. 134 



€ale£ of Romance. 



These Tales are grounded on the Gesta Romanorum, a famous 
old history-book,* which in the guise of Roman story, pre- 
sents us with the manners of chivalry, with monkish le- 
gends, and Arabian apologues. The title has, in fact, little or 
no connexion with the narratives themselves ; which are 
mostly fictitious , even to the names of the kings and empe- 
rors whose adventures they profess to record. That the 
fanciful inventions which the Arabians brought with them 
into Europe should have obtained credit in a dark age can- 
not excite won J .er ; but it is singular that their influence 
should have crept into the sober annals of grave, historical 
tradition. Among the old English metrical romances of 
Eastern origin, which constitute a part of Mr. Ellis's inte- 
resting series, we find The Knight and his Greyhound, a 
tale precisely similar in its general outline to the Gest of the 
Hound and Falcon. These have therefore one common 
origin ; and that the old Welsh tradition relating to Prince 
Llewellyn and his dog, which forms the subject of Mr, 
Spencer'sf ballad of Beth GSlert, or the Grave of the Grey- 
hound, is a scion from the same stock, may be inferred not 
merely from the orientalism of the manners, but from that 
strong internal evidence of originality which is derived from 
coherent and probable narration ; and which, on the slightest 
comparative view, must appear to rest with the Eastern 



* The reader is referred to the dissertation of Mr. Warton 
in the History of English Poetry, and that of Mr. Douce 
in the Illustrations of Shakspeare and ancient Manners. 

f See the Metrical Miscellany, 1802. 



romance. It is also singular that the adventure of the Roman 
slave Androclus and the Lion, which is related by Aulus 
Gellius, finds a counterpart in the Gesta. The history may, 
indeed, have been accommodated to thecostumi of chivalry; 
yet the high and romantic reverence for the qualities of 
beasts, betrays a tincture of Arabian superstition : and it is 
remarkable, that the compiler of the Gesta has drawn his 
fable from some other authority than that of Gellius : this 
may be induced, not from the mere disagreement of the 
story, but from the circumstance that on other occasions the 
chronicler follows Gellius, and even quotes him. The tale 
oigest of Robert king of Sicily, has been treated at large in 
an ancient minstrel poem, of which Mr. Ellis has given an 
abstract with occasional specimens under the head of Mis- 
cellaneous Romances. The incident of The Trumpet of Death 
has been borrowed by the poet Gower. 

I have not always followed the letter of my originals ; but 
have sometimes added new circumstances, and disposed 
the materials according to my own fancy. 



€J)e €ramj?et of ®tat§. 



It so befell that on a dawe 
It was ordeined by the lawe 
A trompe with a sterne breathe, 
Which was cleped the trompe of deathe : 
And in the court where the kyng was 
A certaine man this trompe of brasse 
Hath in keeping, and thereof serveth 
That when a lord his death deserveth, 
He shall this dreadfull trompe blow 
To fore his gate. 

Gower, Confessio Amantis. 



In king Jovinian's hall the feast was laid, 
With lute and voice the minstrel sang and play'd ; 
Full many a taper shower'd its beams from high 
Reflected bright in many a damsel's eye ; 
The hours uncounted flew on fleetest wing, 
But sadness dimm'd the forehead of the king : 



6 THE TRUMPET OF DEATH. 

Then spake Lucillian with upbraiding smile, 

" What charm, oh brother ! shall thy cares beguile ? 

" Can Beauty dart her thrilling glance in vain, 

" And idly melt the softly warbled strain ? 

" In vain shall rosy wine the goblet fill, 

" While sorrowful reflection wraps thee still ?" 

" Forgive," exclaim'd the king : " the morning ray 
" Shall point the cause, and chase thy doubts away." 
Soft sank Lucillian on his downy bed, 
And morning dreams now hover'd o'er his head ; 
When at his gates with harshly startling breath, 
The brazen trumpet breath'd the blast of death. 

What fancy may conceive, what tongue may speak 
The deadly paleness of his alter'd cheek ; 
The horrid wonder of his asking eye, 
Or the sharp pang of his fraternal sigh ? 
Lo ! his bare feet the flinty pavement tread ; 
The graceful locks dishevell'd from his head; 
Wrapt in black garb, while armed knights await 
His suppliant steps, he seeks the palace-gate : 
The sound of clarions makes his entrance known, 
The presence-chamber 's doors are widely thrown; 
He sees the splendor of a regal board 
W T ith blushing wines and dainty viands stor'd ; 
The fairest ladies grace their circled king, 
And flutes breathe soft, and harps melodious ring. 



THE TRUMPET OF DEATH. 7 

Pale sits Lucillian on a tottering seat, 
A chasm of darkness yawning at his feet ; 
A pointed spear suspended o'er his head, 
Still-wavering quivers by a slender thread: 
Four ministers of death beside him stand, 
And daggers gleam in each uplifted hand. 

Then spake Jovinian with insulting smile, 
" What charm, oh brother ! shall thy cares beguile ? 
" Can beauty dart her thrilling glance in Tain, 
" And idly melt the sweetly warbled strain ? 
" In vain shall rosy wine the goblet fill, 
" While sorrowful reflection wraps thee still?" 

" Have I not hear'd," the brother anguish'd spake, 
" The trump of death my peaceful portal shake ? 
" Am I not plac'd where terror dares not breathe, 
" The spear above me, and the chasm beneath ? 
" I rise — the lance will pierce me to the brain — 
" Or lo ! the hands by whom I shall be slain !" 

" And does my brother," cried the king, " repine 
" At cares like these ? behold these cares are mine ! 
" My throne of grandeur is that tottering seat; 
" The pit of hell the chasm beneath my feet : 
" The heavenly judgment hangs above my head; 
" Shapes near me wait that seen would strike thee dead ! 
" The Tempter of mankind is ever nigh, 
" Hope darkly smiling in his watchful eye, 



8 THE TRUMPET OF DEATH. 

u And silent Death with dimly gleaming form, 
" Accusing Conscience, and the hungering Worm t 
" Oh come ! embrace thy brother in thy king ; 
u Thine be the purple robe, the golden ring : 
" Again the wine shall in thy goblet smile, 
" Again shall beauty's thrilling glance beguile 
" Thy graver thought ; but seek no more to know 
u Why sits a monarch with the face of woe." 



iSofiert tog of g>itilp. 



Sicilia's king in all his pride, 

To our blest Lady's church would ride, 

And hear the even song ; 
He rode all goodly to behold, 
In tissue clad of azure and gold; 

Behind his barons throng : 
In a rich, painted gallery 
He sat in pomp full royally. 

No cunning verse might well declare 
The riches of that chapel fair; 

The gates were burnish 'd brass: 
Of massive wax the tapers green 
In silver shone with glimmering sheen, 

And priests were seen to pass, 
In red-cross garments, one by one 
To th' altar steps of jasper-stone, 



10 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 

The altar was with crimson dight, 

All flower'd with gold and jewels bright, 

And in a niche on high 
The Virgin-queen of heav'n did stand 
With ball and sceptre in her hand, 

And robe of scarlet dye : 
The babe in cloth of silver drest, 
With crown of gold lay on her breast. 

But now was heard the organ-peal, 
Ladies and knights were seen to kneel ; 

The king still kept his chair : 
And now Magnificat was sung, 
This stave, by choral voices rung, 

Was echoed sweet in air : 
" En ! superbos Deus stravit, 
" Humiles et exaltavit." 

Wist not the king what words were those, 
He bade a learned clerk disclose 

The Latin mystery : 
" Sire," quoth the clerk, " the God most great 
" Hath cast the haughty from their seat, 

" And rais'd the humble high :" 
" Peace !" cried the king : " for well I know 
" There liveth none could bring me low." 






ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 11 

The pealing music now had ceas'd, 
Heard was the blessing of the priest; 

The rattling pavement sounds: 
The tapers blink with feebler light, 
Then vanish into smoak : dun night 

Each marble aisle surrounds : 
But slumb'ring sate the king on high 
Within the painted gallery. 

Sudden he 'woke ; and sore amaz'd, 
Darkling, his angry voice he rais'd, 

The roof did shrilly ring : 
With torch-light came the sexton old, 
A staff within his griping hold, 

And look'd upon the king : 
" Hah ! lozel vile !" he roar'd, " what now 
" In holy church here filchest thou ?" 

Thick fell the staff; forth fled the king, 
Fierce threats of vengeance murmuring, 

And reach'd the palace gate: 
He blew the trump, and blew again ; 
" A curse upon my worthless train, 

" Who make their monarch wait!" 
With lamp the porter came : " What ho ! 
" Knave ! is it thou that brawlest so V 9 



12 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 

" Hah ! traitor vile, and renegade," 
Beside himself the monarch said, 

" Thou shalt he hang'd to death !" 
The porter strove with many a blow ; 
The king in wrath he struggled so, 

That he was spent of breath ; 
Yet by hard dint and strength of frame 
Into the palace-hall he came. 

Blessed St. Mary ! what a sight ! 
In tissue of gold and azure dight 

Himself was seated there : 
He rubb'd his eyes, and look'd again; 
Himself amid the courtly train 

Sate in a velvet chair : 
While many a knight and smiling dame 
With golden chess-men plied their game. 

There stood he mute — when one and all 
With laughter shook the dinning hall; 

The seeming Robert spoke ; 
" Good chance hath sent this merry knave; 
" Let him a fit apparel have 

" For tale, and gibe, and joke: 
" And he shall stay to make us sport, 
" For state is banish'd from my court. 



ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 13 

Straight at the mandate of the king 
A motley coat the menials bring 

Of yellow, blue, and red ; 
A Iong-ear'd hood he wears beside, 
With squirrels' tails diversified, 

That dangle from his head : 
Fool of the hall he rolls his eyes, 
And shouts of laughter deaf'ning rise. 

Now where the stabled asses sleep 
He to his bed is fain to creep ; 

And passing through the door, 
His barking dogs around him bay ; 
He envies those that fawning stray 

To glean the banquet floor : 
With dainty morsels they are fed, 
While he must sup on broken bread. 

With early sun the trump he hears 
Sound an alarum to his ears, 

And trampling horses neigh : 
Letters from Urban, Pope of Rome, 
Invite his brother-king to come 

To feast and tourney gay : 
The court on steeds and chariots ride, 
And he the fool must run beside. 



14 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 

Launch'd are the painted gallies now, 
The foam is dash'd beneath the prow, 

In air the streamers play : 
With sparkling oars and swelling sails 
They swiftly skim before the gales, 

And cleave the watery way : 
Rhegium receives them from the main, 
The fool still follows in the train. 

The seeming king before him went 
In cloth of gold magnificent 

On courser white as snow ; 
The golden stirrups glisten'd bright, 
The saddle was with velvet dight, 

With pearls the saddle-bow : 
All Italy was glad to see 
A monarch of such majesty. 

Foot-sore and sad, the fool was fain 
To climb the hill and trudge the plain, 

The dust his visage hides ; 
And oft he turns a rueful eye 
Where, as it seems, himself on high 

In regal pageant rides; 
Now sound the clashing streets of Rome, 
And thousand voices shout, " They come !" 



ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 1 5 

Midst ranks of knights in gilded mail 
They pass, and roses thick as hail 

Fall on them from on high : 
From balcons rich, with arras hung, 
Leans many a lady fair and young 

With pleasure in her eye ; 
The Pope with mitre and red pall, 
And many a scarlet cardinal, 
Await them in the palace hall 



} 



Or ere the feast is serv'd, the king 
Would break a lance amid the ring, 

The lists enclose the train ; 
In armour clasp'd he mounts his horse, 
Knight after knight beneath his force 

Is tumbled on the plain ; 
Fair dames with laurel wreathe his head, 
The sun is set, the feast is spread. 

Flouted and jeer'd the motley man 
From forth the Pope's wide palace ran, 

A shouting crowd pursu'd 5 
From street to street he cours'd along, 
And found at distance from the throng 

A place of solitude : 
He looks, and by the moon-beam clear 
Discerns a holy chapel near 



16 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 

The door half open'd stands ; he flies 
With trembling knees and streaming eyes, 

And at the altar bends ; 
His veins glow hot ; his pulses beat ; 
An organ pipe breathes soft, and sweet, 

A vocal strain ascends ; 
" En ! superbos Deus stravit, 
u Humiles et exaltavit." 

I ween king Robert knows full well 
What tones are they that warbling swell 

The vaulted roofs around ; 
And on his cheek there hangs a tear 
Of meek remorse and pious fear ; 

While, as the floating sound 
In lessening murmurs distant dies, 
Prostrate before the cross he cries ; 

" Lord ! I am vile as sinners be !" 

" Honor is none but comes from thee : 

" Lord ! to thy fool give grace ! 
" Unworthy I the crown of king : 
" Yet to thy fool thy pity bring, 

" In this same holy place ; 
" Unworthy I to kneel in prayer, 
" Yet, Lord ! thy fool in pity spare !" 



ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 17 



The chancel lay in the dim moonshine ;— • 
Who could that sudden light divine 

From garments like glistering snow? 
A golden diadem on his head, 
With cheek as the clear vermillion red, 

And locks of amber flow, 
God's angel stood 'gainst the chapel-wall: 
The same who sat in Robert's hall, 
And rode to Urban's festival. 



) 



He by the hand the monarch took : 
His golden wings he rustling shook, 

And glided smooth and fast, 
Above the ground were hung his feet; 
So with the king along the street 

Through yielding air he pass'd 5 
And Robert sat in Urban's hall, 
And shar'd his brother's festival. 



[ 18 ] 



€fje €mgmag* 



X air Aglae languish'd, fair Aglae sigh'd, 

For the next morning sun must behold her a bride : 

Yet he tarried still in the far holy land, 

To whom she in secret had plighted her hand. 

With proud cavalcade in a bridegroom's array 

The monarch of Hungary rode on his way : 

When a knight in black armour came spurring from far, 

Whose helm and whose corselet were hewn in the war. 

Together they rode, and with converse beguil'd 
The forest's dark track, and the heath's dreary wild; 
When the sky was o'ercast, and the torrents of rain 
Dash'd the hoofs of the steeds as they trampled the plain* 

From the king's silken vest fell the heavy drops fast, 
And he shrunk from the rush of the winterly blast; 
" The wind through the sky drives the rain and the rack, 
" Why brought you not, monarch! your house on your 

[back?" 



ILT o>:'s POEM§ = 




- 



THE ENIGMAS. 19 

The king mus'd in wonder ; a flood cross'd the way, 
And his high plume was wet with the dash of the spray : 
" When you next cross the flood, oh improvident king ! 
" Forget not the bridge of your safety to bring." 

The monarch amaz'd, on his road swiftly sped, 
But long was the way, and he hunger'd for bread ; 
The knight the contents of his wallet resign'd; — 
" Your father and mother why left you behind ?" 

Now the emperor's palace rose stately to view 

From the high-beaten track when the stranger withdrew : 

u A net I have spread, which if rent I forsake, 

" But if it be whole on my journey I take." 

The monarch smil'd pondering — then urg'd his best 

speed, 
O'er the clattering drawbridge he pranc'd on his steed : 
Now plac'd in a chair by the emperor's throne, 
He made the strange words of the warrior known. 

Polentius mus'd long with considerate eyes ; 
" My son; thy mysterious companion was wise; 
" The house is a cloak which the rain had defied, 
u The bridge is a forder to fathom the tide : 

" Thy father and mother the bread and the wine, 
" The props of existence whereon we recline ; [aghast, 
"For the net — " when he paus'd ; and up-starting 
To the chamber of Aglae hastily pass'd. 



20 THE ENIGMAS. 

But the chamber was void ; and the king in dismay 
At the tidings ungrateful turn'd back on his way : 
The fugitive damsel had yielded her hand 
To the knight who return'd from the far holy land 






[21 ] 



Sfjeotio.s'iu.g tlje BHnti <£mpe?ot. 



It was ordained by this emperor, that the cause of any injured 
person should instantly be heard, on his tolling a bell, that 
was hung in an open court of the palace. 



Xh e bell of justice in dead of night 

Sounded with iron tongue ; 
The watchman cross'd him in sudden fright, 

And long on the startling echo hung ; 
The emperor, rouz'd at the sullen sound, 
Lay rolling his sightless orbs around. 

Through the palace 'twas doubt and wonder all, 

And the silence fled away ; 
The menials throng'd through the rustling hall 

With looks and whispers of blank dismay : 
For lo ! not a mortal wight was foimd 
To tell of that strange, untimely sound. 



22 THEODOSIUS THE BLIND EMPEROR. 

They stood where the cord descending swung, 

But not a soul was there ; 
Yet again the bell with its iron tongue, 

Toll'd to the stillness of midnight air ; 
Upwards and downwards the bell-rope slid 
With a rattling sound, but the cause was hid. 

They deem that the gripe of a dead man's hand 

Has whirl'd the bell on high ; 
And with lifted tapers they trembling stand, 

And bend up the turret a fearful eye ; 
The cord by a serpent was wreath'd around, 
Who dragg'd the rope with that startling sound. 

The emperor ponder'd with brows of care 
The tale that with laughter came ; 

He bade a swift slave ascending bear 

The torch that redden'd with flaring flame ; 

And lo ! a foul toad with bloated breast 

Crouch'd panting within that serpent's nest. 

'Twas not in vain that the serpent's call 

Affrighted the midnight sky : 
'Twas not in vain that with shattering fall 

The venom'd usurper was hurl'd from high s 
Remains that the great event we tell 
Which blind Theodosius next befell. 






THEODOSIUS THE BLIND EMPEROR, 23 

His face was turn'd to the summer air 

That breath'd from the river below ; 
And wafted abroad his long, loose hair, 

And freshen'd his cheek with its balmy flow, 
As reclin'd on his noon-day couch he lay, 
And bask'd in the sunshine's golden ray 5 

When slow up the palace-wall without 

That serpent soft-sliding clomb ; 
No watchman was near with his warning shout 

To ring alarm through the echoing dome : 
It chanc'd the blind man alone reclin'd, 
His sole companions the sun and wind. 

And in at the casement that serpent crept 

In many a surgy fold ; 
And her twining length, that stately swept, 

Glisten'd with jet, and green, and gold ; 
Now the emperor felt his life-blood freeze, 
For the snake had coil'd her round his knees 

The serpent her slacken'd folds withdrew, 

And the loose unravellings spread ; 
But the emperor's pulse more tremulous grew 

And back he shrank with recoiling head ; 
For the snake, with smooth and slippery trace, 
Came gliding athwart his sightless face. 



24 THEODOSIITS THE BLIND EMPEROR. 

He felt, with a shock of dumb surprise, 
The touch of some gem unknown, 

From the serpent's mouth, laid soft on his eyes, 
As it were a jacynth or beryl stone ; 

Impatient now in his griping hold, 

He struggled to grasp the serpent's fold : 

But the wily snake elapsing fled, 
Like the wa\e of a sliding stream ; 

And the emperor rais'd his hasty head, 
And he saw the snake's departing gleam : 

For the scales had fall'n that film'd his sight, 

And his eyes roll'd glad in the blaze of light. 



[25] 



€&e Mnigftt antx tfje £iotw 



-An selmts to the forest bent his way, 
Hunting the fallow deer and woodland boar $ 

Now on the yellow verge of sinking day, 
His eyes the sunset's lingering light explore ; 
When sudden from the glen a sullen roar 

Startles his ear; he checks his courser's rein, 

And grasps his lance, and hollows to his train. 

Forth from the tangled brake a lion came, 

But limping slow as maim'd by painful wound; 

His eyes emitted a dull, deadish flame, 

He trail'd his mane dishevell'd on the ground, 
And mutter'd low a smother'd, moaning sound $ 

He crouch'd before the knight, who fearless gaz'd, 

And mark'd the beast's torn foot with effort rais'd. 



26 THE KNIGHT AND THE LION. 

Touch'd with mild pity sprang to earth the knight, 
And dauntless grasp'd the beast's extended paw ; 

By the last gleam of eve's departing light 
A fest'ring thorn implanted deep he saw ; 
That thorn his hands with skilful pressure draw, 

And staunch the blood that trickles from the wound 

With healing herbs which in that glade he found. 

Now moons have wax'd and wan'd ; but ne'er again 
The knight for pastime sought the forest shade ; 

For he consorted with a robber train, 

And on the flock and herd and trav'ller prey'd, 
If so his ruin'd fortunes he might aid ; 

Thus outlaw'd he became ; till compass'd round 

With ambush 'd archers, he was seiz'd and bound. 

Glad was Eraclian in his wrathful mood, 

And from th' imperial throne the judgment gave ; 

That to the wildest monster of the wood 

The outlaw should be thrown ; nor might he crave 
Of mercy aught, for deeds of honour brave 

In time long past : with calmly daring eye 

Anselmus listen'd, and prepar'd to die. 

Rome's ample circus was with thousands throng'd ; 
Stood naked in the midst the unarnrd knight ; 

A deaf and distant roar the dread prolong 'd 

Of that suspense; and each with straining sight [might 
Look'd towards the den ; the death-doom'd man his. 

Rouz'd to th' encounter ; quell'd each weak alarm, 

Pois'd his clench'd hand, and rais'd his sinewy arm. 



THE KNIGHT AND THE LION. 2j 

Wide burst the sounding den ; the lion came 
Fierce with a bound, and roaring like the sea ; 

Bristling his mane, his hungry eyes all flame ; 
The knight firm propp'd upon his bended knee 
Awaited him ; and all believ'd that he 

His nervous arm within that throat of death 

Would desperate thrust; all gaz'd with stifled breath* 

Oh what a shout was there ! — the lion stopp'd, 

As paralysed by some enchanting spell ; 
At once the terrors of his mane he dropp'd, 

And at his victim's feet meek-fawning fell : 

It was the lion in the forest dell 
Whom he had serv'd, that now before him lay, 
And murm'ring lick'd his feet in sportive play. 

Amaz'd Eraclian beckon'd from his throne, 
And with the knight the lion follow'd tame ; 

The emperor, when that wond'rous tale was known, 
Felt at his heart the glow of gen'rous shame ; 
Applauding shouts the pardon giv'n proclaim; 

" The beasts shall teach me mercy ; live, and be 

" What once thou wert; so thank my clemency/' 



[28] 



€&e WtVtlg fcrt>o tattfy S^en. 



In a rock was his mansion beside the hoarse main 

Whose dashings at distance were heard : 
But the prince's soft limbs were ungall'd by a chain, 
He was serv'd on the knee by the Paladin train, 
And was gay as the cage-prison'd bird. 

At his birth the physicians were met in debate, 

And his horoscope earnestly read ; 
The planets were adverse ; and sad they relate 
Their fearful conjunction, whose menacing fate 

Now glares o'er his infantine head. 

" From his cradle three lustres must dark pass away, 

" And the sun must be hid from his eyes ; 
w If before he encounter the splendor of day, 
" The clear orbs of vision depriv'd of their ray 
" Shall in vain seek the light of the skies." 






THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 29 

A mountain was hollo w'd, a cavern delv'd wide 

With arches and pillars of stone ; 
A fire, that with cedars blaz'd fragrant, defied 
The damps that arose from the salt ocean-tide, 

And with far-streaming radiancy shone. 

The ivory couches with purple were dight, 

The walls hung with arras around ; 
There hawks, hounds, and horses, were pictur'dto sight, 
And woods waving green, and clear streams purling 

And huntsmen their horns seem'd to sound, [bright, 

Beaten gold all the ceiling's arch'd surface o'erlaid; 

Birds warbled in cages of gold; 
And as if by some minstrel's invisible aid, 
With musical echo soft instruments play'd 

As the passing waves outwardly roll'd. 

The columns of stone, that encircled the cave, 

Were fraught with philosophy's lore ; 
In letters of gold did a sage there engrave 
The words of the wise, and the deeds of the brave, 

The feats and the virtues of yore. 

The prince with a lute the slow moments beguil'd, 

Or the target was pierc'd by his lance ; 
With silent observance the governor smil'd 
At the restless aspirings that wrought in the child, 

And that flash'd in the roll of his glance. 



30 THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 

Hark ! timbrels re-echo and dulcimers ring ; 

Songs of triumph float distant in air : 
The Paladins enter; the queen and the king : 
Their smiles, their embraces, their blessings they bring, 

The prince to his people they bear. 

The sun shines in gold ; the broad heavens are blue ; 

The waves green as emerald roll ; 
The city's bright pinnacles dazzle his view> 
The crowds thronging thick as the stars or the dew 

Oppress and bewilder his soul. 

O'er the vast, floating multitude wanders his gaze, 

O'er the banners, the shields, and the spears : 
Recover'd at length from his dazzled amaze, 
The gifts which his parents have brought he surveys, 
And perplex'd in his rapture appears. 

There vestments of silver, and vestments of gold, 

Are gorgeously pil'd on the plain: 
In heaps, pearls and rubies and sapphires are roll'd, 
And pictures, and statues of exquisite mould, 

His choice with their beauties detain. 

There stood gilded chariots, and coursers snow-white 

With trappings of crimson array'd: 
There mail rich-emblaz'd glitter'd keen on his sight, 
And helms in the pomp and resplendence of light, 

Crested dark with the plume's nodding shade. 



THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 31 

Here linger'd the youth ; but he lifted his eyes 

On the throng that assembled around : 
When sudden he starts with a glance of surprise, 
His blood circles fast, and his breath panting flies, 

And the hollow helm clanks on the ground. 

He whispers confus'd in the governor's ear, 
" What creatures, I pray thee, are those ? 
" More soft ev'n than boys their mild features appear, 
" They touch me with joy, yet they thrill me with fear, 
" And my blood with strange ardency glows." 

His age-silver'd head then Ydronicus shook, 

The youth's hand he earnestly press'd ; 
" Oh ! fatal they are ; shun that soul-thrilling look, 
" Which already thy gaze with its venom hath strook, 

" Lest the poison sink deep in thy breast. 

" They with jewels are deck'd, and in scarlet are drest, 

" And their ringlets are wreath 'd like the vine : 
" Their shape is the fir-tree's; the swan's is their breast, 
" Full many a wretch have their eyes robb'd of rest, 
" Oh let not that folly be thine ! 

" But, listen, my prince ! I will tell thee their name, 
" And thy pulse will beat fearfully then; 

" Thyself shalt my wisdom and caution proclaim ; 

" Oh ! shun as the plague, as the sword, as the flame, 
" The Devils, the snarers of men!" 



32 THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 

Adonias was mute — but his eyes linger'd yet 
On the damsels that smiling stood by : 

Their enamouring glances with his frequent met ; 

His feet seem'd entangled as 'twere with a net, 
And his heart struggled soft with a sigh. 

" My father ! my father ! the gems and the gold 

" Some other unenvied may bear: 
" But thus let the choice of my fancy be told ; 
" Oh ! give me the Devils whom there I behold, 

" Those Devils who men can ensnare! 



[33] 



(©iron nje punter* 



Away the nimble-footed hind 
Had flown, as if on wings of wind ; 
The foaming dogs, with chiming cry, 
Trac'd her steps both low and high ; 
Up the mountain's verdant swell, 
Down the dark and briery dell ; 
Through brake and lawn, and forest deep, 
With winding track, and circling sweep. 
Full far the fugitive was gone, 
Yet dogs and steeds toil'd panting on ; 
Though many a hunter thrown behind 
Stood listening to the hollow wind, 
That wafted sounds from distant hill, 
Of horns, and hounds, and voices shrill. 

Beneath a breezy-whispering-wood 
The breathless Giron lonely stood ; 
His horse neglected brouz'd the tree 5 
To the green sod he stoop'd his knee * 
D 



34 GIRON THE HUNTER. 

For there a brook was seen to pass 
Like crystal through the matted grass; 
But ere his lips had touch'd the stream, 
A shadow cross'd the watery gleam. 

Starting he turn'd; behind him stood 
An ancient man of aspect good; 
Whose stature's super-human mould 
Was large and lofty to behold. 
Of mildest azure was his eye ; 
His cheek of health's incarnate dye ; 
White as the snow his beard and hair 
Flow'd on his breast, and wav'd in air : 
Fresh and fair his garments green; 
Buskins on his feet were seen 
Of the panther's velvet hide, 
Mottled in its furry pride : 
His lifted hands appear'd to hold 
A goblet round of rubied gold ; 
A sparkling beverage seem'd to swim 
Mantling o'er its ample brim. 

Calm the apparition stood; 
Perhaps the genius of the wood ; 
And with smile and look benign, 
Gave the cool and fragrant wine. 
With joy did Giron quaff the bowl, 
And freshness flow'd upon his soul. 



GIRON THE HUNTER, 35 

But when that gracious vision sought 
The goblet which his bounty brought; 
Then did the hunter's eager eyes 
Devour th' inestimable prize ; 
He grasp 'd the cup with gesture rude, 
And frown'd in stern ingratitude. 

When beneath him rock'd the murmuring ground, 
And that aged form was seen to sink ; 

The sod clave apart with an earthquake sound, 
And Giron reel'd on the giddy brink ; 

A sudden whirlwind came roaring by, 

And clouds of darkness o'ershadow'd the sky ; 

And the hunter fled, and his starting hair 

Uprose in the horror of wild despair ; 

And the golden cup, that with rubies shone, 

Was chang'd in his grasp to a dusky stone. 

Full many a youth hath since been seen 
To sit beneath that forest green ; 
Listening the swell of voices shrill, 
And horns that rang from distant hill; 
And he hath sipp'd the crystal stream, 
But no shade cross'd the watery gleam ; 
No friendly sprite refreshment bore, 
That ancient man was seen no more. 



[36] 



€&e $tt of toigtation. 



A traveller fled through a forest drear, 

His breath was quick-drawn in the pain of fear ; 

An unicorn close on his path pursu'd, 

Whose tramp was heard through the crashing wood. 

The trav'ller ran with the speed of wind, 
But still as he ran he look'd behind : 
Before him a yawning precipice lay, 
And falling he dropp'd from the light of day. 

From the chasm's dark hollow a tree upgrew, 
That was bare of leaves but lofty to view : 
In the tangling branches the traveller hung, 
But around the trunk a dragon clung. 

The glimmer of day-light began to peep, 
And illumined with horror that cavern deep : 
Then could the panic-struck travller see 
Two nibbling mice at the root of the tree. 




fainted by SJirJ . 



Sjujraved 



._'?{*' .>ai4/- JUa/ jM&yutia. cAaa&n /./ ;///~i /u/ 
j//ct *>ca/t/ /o-/</>->. //?<i/ Mt tit t a/: <■) 



fubUo/ud JftircA .j.-*idu-. by John Hicrrav.X:'3Z.EleetJtnxt. 






THE PIT OP TEMPTATION. 37 

They nibbled the root, and the branches shook, 
And the traveler cast an exploring look ; 
Four vipers white their venom spit 
From the craggy sides of that horrible pit. 

His glance uplifted a way descried 
That was delv'd in the cavern's stony side ; 
And by this rugged and steepy stair 
A man might emerge to the upper air. 

From the tree-top now he thought to leap, 
And grasp the crags of the jutting steep ; 
When a dropping honeycomb's golden rill 
From the shaken tree did softly distill. 

The flavour was sweet to the traveler's lip, 
And awhile he linger'd the drops to sip ; 
But he saw that sleeping dragon unwind 
Her scaly folds that the trunk entwin'd. 

The traveler started in wilder haste, 
But the trickling honey was sweet to his taste ; 
And now the air was tainted with death 
From the four white vipers' pois'nous breath. 

Again from the tree his arms he tore, 
Then loiter'd to sip the honey once more 5 
But he trembled the nibbling mice to see* 
And giddily swang on the tottering tree. 



38 THE PIT OP TEMPTATION. 

The quagmire splash 'd as the ruin fell ; 
The cavern rang to the fearful yell ; 
The dragon gap'd : and the traveler's groan 
Was mingled in sound with the crash of bone. 






[39] 



€f)e J^ounti anfc tfje falcon. 



Averrhoes to the tournament is gone, 
And with him went his gentle lady fair ; 

The sun unclouded in its glory shone 
Throughout the blue serenity of air ; 
Who then the castle's prisoning walls could bear ? 

All rush abroad, and to the tourney run, 

Where spears and 'scutcheons blaze against the sun. 

No — not the little babe that cradled lay 
Breathing its balmy breath in rosy rest, 

Had power the nurse's rambling feet to stay ; 
So did her wishes burn within her breast; 
Each busy fear she tranquilly suppress'd ; 

For she had left the cradled babe beside 

Two guards whose faithful vigilance was tried. 

Dear was that infant in his father's eyes, 

Not the fond mother's love could more abound ; 

And next his wife and babe the knight did prize 
His strong-wing'd falcon, and his clear-tongued hound j 
He joy 'd to hear the deep'ning woods ring round ; 

Or watch the hawk sweep rapid down the sky 

With pounce of surest aim, and eagle eye. 



40 THE HOUND AND THE FALCON. 

These were the guards, whose watchfulness and love 
Were trusted now to shield that infant's bed ; 

One wav'd his broad wings on the perch above, 
One at the cradle's foot reclin'd his head ; 
And ever and anon the slumber fled 

From his quick-lifted eye, and oft his ear 

Uprose, to list if danger threat'ned near. 

Ceas'd not the tilting till the close of day, 
But first the nurse resought her lord's abode ; 

The knight had carried every prize away, 
And with his dame to their fair castle rode ; 
But ere he reach'd the towers, that distant glow'd 

Ting'd by the setting sun, he heard a cry : 

Forth flew the nurse with terror in her eye. 

With desperate hands her naked breast she beat, 
And tore the scatter'd tresses from her head ; 

Grovelling before the horses' trampling feet 

She gasp'd, and shriek'd," the child, the child is dead ! 
"The hound, the hawk, his precious blood have shed; 

" I — I am all the cause, who could forsake ; 

" My life in vengeance and in mercy take." 

The lady swoon'd, and from her palfrey fell; 

The knight's stout heart like aspen-leaf now shook ; 

No language might his eye's blank horror tell ; 
In at the gates, and up the stair he took 
His breathless way ; and cast an eager look 

As through the chamber's folding-doors he pass'd* 

And strait with quivering lips recoil'd aghast. 






THE HOUND AND THE FALCON. 41 

The cradle was overthrown; the hound there lay 
Licking the blood-drops that his paws embrued ; 

The falcon's plumes in ruffled disarray 

Hung flagging down, and dabbled all with blood ; 
Awhile the anguish'd knight astonied stood; 

Then with a vigorous arm and lightning glance 

Hurl'd at that gory hound his ashen lance. 

Swift to his fist the fluttering falcon flies, 
And rustling claps the plumage of her wings ; 

The knight with anger glowing in his eyes 
That falcon's neck with grasp of iron wrings : 
The hound creeps wounded on, and fawning clings, 

And gently licks the hand that gave the blow, 

Then rolls in death with stifled moaning slow* 

A tear stood quivering in the master's eye 
While to the cradle tremblingly he sped ; 

When from that cradle came a living cry : 
From underneath his infant rear'd its head, 
And thrust its searching arms ; its cheek was red 

With healthful slumber : at the father's sight 

Silent it laugh 'd with eyes that swam in light. 

The sire in extasy of wonder shriek'd, 

And caught the babe ; but treading swift the floor 
His foot comprest a snake ; with azure streak'd 

Gleam'd the scal'd folds, but purpled thick with gore ; 

The snake was pierc'd and mangled o'er and o'er : 
The very eyes were eaten from its head; 
There crush'd it lay in trailing volumes spread. 



42 THE HOUND AND THE FALCON. 

Conviction glisteird in the parent's eye ; 

He turn'd, and saw whence that huge serpent crept 
Through the time-rifted wall, and glided nigh 

The cradle where that guarded infant slept ; 

The knight his forehead smote, and groaning wept; 
His barb'rous hand in rash impatience wild 
Had slain the faithful guards that sav'd his child. 

While to her breast the babe Rosmilla press'd, 

Tears dew ? d her cheeks for them who breathless lay ; 

The knight with sighs of keen remorse caress'd 
Those who had foiled the serpent of its prey ; 
A late and vain atonement he would pay; 

And rear'd a tomb of brass; the hawk and hoimd, 

The snake and babe were carv'd in bronze around. 

Wretched Averrhoes hVd : he never sought 

The trackless woods, nor bent his upward glance 

In air, but conscience on his fancy wrought, 
And heavily he wept that fatal chance ; 
Till he, forswearing knighthoood, brake his lance; 

And vow'd to holy-land a pilgrimage, 

And there in penance dwelt to good old age. 






c « ] 



€J>e ^legitimate d§om 



xi o m e' s empress pale on her death-bed lay, 
And her lips and forehead were cold as clay 5 
" Oh emperor ! hear — three sons are mine, 
" But one of the three alone is thine." 

Eufemian dropp'd the scalding tear, 

And his brow was bath'd in the dew of fear 5 

" Thy crime, Theodora, shall pardon gain, 

" But speak! that my true-born son may reign." 

The empress gaz'd with a ghastly eye, 
And her bosom heav'd a deep-drawn sigh ; 
But a mother's love was strong in death, 
And speechless she yielded up herlbreath. 

On his death-bed soon Rome's emperor lay, 
And his lips and forehead were cold as clay : 
" Jerusalem's king shall fill my throne, 
" Till that my true-born son be known. 



44 THE LEGITIMATE SON. 

Jerusalem's king the mandate gave ; 
They raise the corse from its new-made grave $ 
With arrows and bows the sons must stand, 
And the sceptre shall gift the truest hand. 

The princes the shrouded monarch see 

At distance bound to a plantane-tree : 

With steady aim the eldest stands, 

And the bowstring twangs in his nervous hands. 

In the forehead cold of the breathless corse 
The arrow quivers with cleaving force ; 
Then forth from the throng the second came, 
And wary stood with an archers aim. 

He drew the bow with rebounding twang, 
Through the whistling air the arrow sang ; 
As the light'ning swift, that bearded dart 
Was lodg'd in the lifeless monarch's heart. 

Jerusalem's king then turn'd to know 
Why the youngest prince came loitering slow; 
But with sobs and cries that rent the ear 
That youthful prince stood weeping near. 

The darts and bow to his grasp were giv'n, 
But his eyes in horror were rais'd to heav'n; 
He trampled the bow and he snapp'd the dart, 
" Ah ! shall I pierce my father's heart?' 






THE LEGITIMATE SON. 45 

Jerusalem's king from his throne stept down, 
On the youngest's brows he piac'd the crown ; 
" Untouch 'd shall the corse of thy father be 
" By the hand of his son ; for thou art he !" 






[46] 



€|)c $3ta$tn $?mage* 



-t u l l in the beam of noon 

The brazen statue stood ; 

A fillet bound its brow ; 
And on that fillet there was written, " Strike !" 

And that exhorting word 

With misdirected aim 

Not seldom was obey'd ; 
The brazen head e'en like a helm appeared 
Bruis'd with indenting blows ; but never vet 

Had blest the striker's hopes; 

But never yet disclos'd 
Diamonds or rubies or the treasur'd gold. 

A clerk of subtlest lore 
Was Tirius ; and he stood beneath the sun, 
And on the statue fix'd his gaze intent : 

The statue pointing stretcrrd 
Its brazen finger downwards to the ground; 
And the long shadow of that finger lay 
At distance from the lofty pedestal. 



THE BRAZEN IMAGE. 4 7 

He waited till the streets of Rome 
Slept in the moonshine's stilly light ; 
Then to the well-mark'd spot 
He took his lonely way : 
And with an axe he brake the ground ; and lo I 
A hollow cavity ; with ample stair 
Of marble, and a balustrade of gold. 

Down many a slippery stair 

He step by step descends ; 

His lamp reflected sheds 

A pale, but steady light ; 

Still round and round he winds 
The mazy breadth ofvast descent ; 

Still deeper, deeper still, 
He descends down the spacious abyss ; 

Down the utter hollo wness 
Of the secret and unfathomable earth : 

Still smooth and broad the stair 

In slippery marble shone, 

And the balustrade was gold; 

But so long he wound his deepening way, 

That his head now giddily swam, 

And his limbs ach'd weary now. 
Behind he look'd with upward glance, 
And, like a ladder reaching to the clouds, 

Discern'd the marble stair, 

With its balustrade of gold : 



48 THE BRAZEN IMAGE. 

Downward he bent his view ; 
No end ; no change ; no resting-place of sight; 
But the marble, broad descent 
Winding for ever around and around 
With its balustrade of gold. 

The sounds of his sliding feet 

Were now less audible ; 
For he with breathless fear perceiv'd 
The echoes of his heart beat loud ; 

His dying lamp shed now 

A feeble and tremulous gleam : 
Now darkness fell upon him, and he stood. — 

Fields, and the light of day ! 
The sunny blaze of azure noon ! — 
A river broad roll'd limpid in his view ; 

From bank to bank immense 

On silver arches stretch 'd 
A bridge with pinnacles of gold 

That gleam'd as they were fire : 
And on that bridge gigantic horsemen stood : 

The horses and the riders were of gold; 
And in the calm, meridian sun 
Shone their burnish'd images 
With radiancy serene. 



THE BRAZEN IMAGE. 49 

Tirius has past the bridge ; 
But turning with a greedy hand to touch 
Those golden images, there came a sound 
As of a rushing hailstorm, mingled loud 
With thunder-peals ; and that vast bridge uprose 
In perpendicular horror ; and the stream 
Dividing, there came forth a giant man 

Who liv'd, although of brass ; 
He smote the waters with a brazen mace, 
And straight the sun was darkness. 

On the spot 
Where first he brake the solid earth 

Tirius astounded stood : 
The statue in the moonlight as before 
Shone, but some hand had rent 
The fillet from its brow. 



[50] 



€J)c £)uftc'£ £ cagt? 



X h e moon had sunk in clouds ; a storm was nigh, 
And eddy leaves came scattering on the blast ; 

The merchant round him turn'd an anxious eye, 
As yet scarce half the forest length was past ; 

While mingling with the gloom a deeper dread, 

The passing thunder roii/d in murmurs o'er his head. 

The steed shook wild his ruffled mane ; around 
The oak-trees old rock'd roaring in the gale; 

And pines their branches stoop'd with crashing sound; 
Drear clos'd the darkness on the lightning pale ; 

When through the forest-breaks a light from high 

Shone distant, as it seenrd, a watch-tower in the sky. 

* The adventure of Bernage, in the 3-2d tale of the Contes ct 
Nouveiles de Marguerite de Falois Reine de Navarre, is bor- 
rowed from this story : with the addition of the Lady's hum- 
ble penitence and consequent restoration to favor. It will be 
seen that I have somewhat refined upon the original gest. 



THE DUKE'S FEAST. 51 

With livelier cheer the traveller wound the glade, 
Till climbing slow the dark hill's hanging steep, 

Th' illuminated turrets he survey'd [deep ; 

Whose light had glimmerd through those forests 

Beneath a stately castle's walls he stood, [wood. 

That, flank'd with lofty towers, o'ertopp'd th' inferior 

Beside the gate was hung a brazen horn ; 

The pediment was grav'd with golden scroll; 
" Here food and shelter wait the wretch forlorn, 

" Who owns the treasure of a grateful soul." 
The merchant to his lips that horn applied, 
The hollow mountain-glens re-echoed far and wide. 

Straight quivering streaks illume the granite walls, 
From many a gliding torch reflected bright ; 

Shrill ring the gates ; expand the tapestried halls, 
And blooming pages guide his steps aright; 

With busy hands disrobe the way-worn guest, 

And lave in tepid streams, and clothe in downy vest. 

Thence o'er a smooth mosaic floor he treads, 

Of greenest marble is the vast saloon; 
A crystal lamp its chequering lustre sheds, 

As o'er some valley shines the shadowy moon; 
The flgur'd arras waves, and on his sight 
Sudden a presence-room bursts in a blaze of light. 



52 the duke's feast. 

His foot on cushion rais'd of cloth of gold, 

One sate beneath a purple canopy : 
His clustering locks in raven blackness roll'd, 

Pale was his hollow cheek, like fire his eye 5 
In cloak of ermin'd crimson he was clad ; 
But rueful was his mien ; his very smile was sad. 

Knights in gay green appear'd; and clad in rose 
Sate ladies young with pearl-ybraided hair; 

The duke Onulphus from his throne arose, 
And plac'd the merchant in a golden chair : 

Full opposite the dutchess thron'd was seen ; 

Soft was her pensive smile, and chaste her modest mien. 

But oh ! how tempting fair ; her hazel eye 
Swam dark in beaming languishment of hue ; 

Her smooth and jetty brows were arch'd on high, 
Her shading lashes length en'd on the view ; 

The crimson of her cheek rose mantling warm, 

A lucid robe scarce veil'd her lightly rounded form. 

None may that bosom's orb'd luxuriance tell, 
As marble firm, and dazzling as the snow ; 

The gazer's heart, while soft it rose and fell, 
Beat with a like pulsation to and fro : 

And oh ! the moisture of the scarlet lip 

That clos'd these pearly teeth, it had been heaven to sip. 



the duke's feast. 53 

Apart she sat, distinguish'd from the rest, 
A violet mantle from her shoulders flow'd ; 

A zone of diamonds grasp'dher throbbing breast, 
And on her tapering fingers rubies glow'd ; 

Gems quiver'd in her ears ; and round her head 

Gather'd in braiding gold the jetty tresses spread. 

Here gaz'd Basilius ; nor the lady's gaze 
Disdain'd to melt and mingle with his own; 

At once his blood was kindled in a blaze, 

His pulses throbb'd with tumults yet unknown ; 

Flush'd was his cheek, and humid were his eyes, 

And every nerve was thrill'd with trembling ecstacies. 

But still, whene'er he turn'd his eyes aside, 

The duke's stern glance would seem to read his soul; 
i Then through his heart would icy terrors glide, 
Till once again her gaze electric stole 

On his attracted gaze, and once again [vein. 

The guilty flames were shot through every shivering 

Now to the trumpet's silver sound behold 

The banquet serv'd; the golden beakers shine; 

The viands rich are pil'd in massive gold, 
Reddens in golden cups the sparkling wine ; 

The merchant swims in bliss; the duke demands 

A health, and courteous gives the goblet to his hands. 



54 the duke's feast. 

Then smiling bends the guest his wishful eyes 
To that fair dutchess, when the goblet falls 

From his slack grasp ; what sudden horrors rise I 
What ghastly spectacle his sight appalls ! 

In her white hand she held a human skull, 

A page stood by with wine, and fill'd it to the full. 

She bows, and lifts it to her smiling lips, 
But her smooth brow is ruffled by a frown ; 

Tears drop into the draught; and, while she sips, 
O'er her high-heaving breast run trickling down. 

The merchant on Onulphus turn'd his look ; 

Again that eagle eye his breast with lightning strook, 

111 far'd the traveller through that horrid feast, 

Though perfumes breath'd, and music warbled round t 

Full glad was he when all the banquet ceas'd, 
Fain would he fly from that enchanted ground 5 

But now those blooming boys the torches bear, 

And his reluctant steps ascend the jasper stair. 

The plumes of ostrich nodded o'er the bed 
That stood by silver eagles propp'd on high ; 

The velvet curtains glow'd with deepest red ; 
And wav'd the walls with pictur'd tapestry ; 

Large as the life appear'd those shadows bright, 

Their stately forms mov'd slow to every breeze of night. 



the duke's feast. 55 

There from the book of Troy was wrought the tale, 

Here Helen smil'd at Menelaus' side : 
There look'd she back, while far the bellying sail 

In flight convey'd her o'er the rolling tide : 
Here her white arms enfold th' adulterous boy, 
And there she wailing sees the gathering flames of Troy. 

There too the mighty Agamemnon bled 
Within the marble bath, by ruifian sword ; 

Here was the feast by Clytemnestra spread, 
The gay adulterer grae'd the regal board : 

There his good blade the stern Orestes drew, 

And o'er a mother's corse his veiling mantle threw. 

His arms in musing thought the merchant folds, 
And,touch'd with sadness, views the storied walls: 

When sudden he a gilded niche beholds, 

As with slant gleam the lamp reflected falls ; 

Within the niche two glooming tapers burn, 

Whose flickering light shows dim an alabaster urn. 

Who may the stranger's shuddering anguish paint, 
When in that vase he look'd, and saw enclosed 

A human heart ! — with rising horrors faint 

He sought his couch ; and lay, but not repos'd ; 

When clang'd the doors; and lo ! the duke — who led 

That lovely dame, her locks dishevell'd from her head, 



56 the duke's feast. 

That heart, with myrrh and cassia balm'd, he took, 
And to her lips with courteous mockery rais'd ; 

That heart she kiss'd, while he with searching look 
On her flustrd cheek unalterably gaz'd : 

Then, while her sobbing breast rose heaving fast, [pass'd. 

The vase was clos'd, and they from forth the chamber 

Up sprang the traveler when the morning broke, 
And left the chamber with a beating breast; 

The duke encountering sinil'd, and gracious spoke, 
And ask'd if sweet his fare, if soft his rest; 

Basilius bow'd the knee ; but frankly said, 

How that his breast was scar'd, and terrified his bed. 

Stern smil'd his host, and led him where a room 
Was rich with painting, gold, and ebony : 

Without the casements roses wreath'd their bloom, 
And woodbines droop'd in cluster'd canopy : 

Its blossom'd boughs the myrtle green entwin'd, 

And orange-trees with sweets impregnated the wind. 

Rare needle-work the colour'd hangings wove, 
The silken scene did loyal loves display : 

Knights in their helmets ^ore the gage of love, 
Or at the feet of damsels courteous lay : 

But all was stilly gloom ; what seem'd a bed 

Rose underneath an arch, with sable pall o'erspread. 



THE DUKES FEAST. 57 

Unseen the harp is touch'd ; the whilst they taste 
The luscious fruit, and drink metheglin sweet; 

Slow to the merchant's thought the moments waste, 
Till rose the duke in silence from his seat ; 

That sable pall he rais'd, and pointing stood ; 

The azure couch blush 'd red — it was the stain of blood ! 

Then pray'd the trembling merchant to depart, 
The gorgeous misery sicken'd on his brain ; 

The mystic drinking-skull ; th' embalmed heart, 
The purple horror of the secret stain! — 

" Lo ! here," Onulphus cried, " my bridal bower ! 

" And here my consort clasp'd her guilty paramour. 

" Like thee my guest, he caught the roving glance 
" Of Rosimund, and lur'd her to her shame; 

" I saw ; I found them in their sinful trance, 

" And quench 'd in blood the barb 'ro us ingrate's flame ; 

" It is the will of heav'n that I should be 

" The still-avenging scourge of her inconstancy. 

" This carbuncle that on my finger glows 
" Was once a living serpent's precious eye : 

" Thus did an Arab sage his night's repose 
u Requite, of necromantic potency : 

" For still, when woman's faith would go astray, 

" This modest jewel pales its bright and sanguine ray. 



58 THE DUKE S FEAST. 

* And still, whene'er her thoughts to vice incline, 
" That cup is brought to med'cine her offence ; 

" And tears of rage then mingle with her wine, 
" Would they "were chang'd to tears of penitence I 

" I may not dare, till she be chaste and true, 

" So warn'd by holy dreams, remit the penance due. 

u Now go in peace !" he said, and clasp'd him round 
With courteous arms ; the gates unfolding rang : 

A barb with golden bit there paw'd the ground, 
The grateful merchant to the saddle sprang : 

Pensive he left the castle-walls ; but thence 

He bore a wiser heart, and firmer innocence, 






CJjiomara, 

a l&onoorama. 



When the Gauls of Galatia were subdued by the consul Man- 
lius, rather more than a century and a half before Christ, 
Chiomara, the wife of Ortiagon, chief of the Tolisthoboii, 
was taken prisoner in the battle of Olympus, and carried to 
Ancyra. The centurion to whom she was entrusted did vio- 
lence to her person; and then offered to release her from 
captivity, in case she should procure a ransom. The time, 
the place, and the sum of money were agreed on, as well 
as the number of those, two only, who should convey 
it. Through the intervention of a faithful slave found among 
the centurion's prisoners, her friends were apprized of the 
condition of her liberation. Two of them, on the night ap- 
pointed, brought in gold the value of a talent, and gave it to 
the centurion to weigh, who had anxiously waited for them 
with his captive. Whilst his thoughts were engaged with 
the gold, she commanded her ransomers to stab him to the 
heart. They obeyed : his head was then severed from his 
body, and being wrapt up in her robe by Chiomara, was 
carried to her husband Ortiagon in the place of his retreat, 
and thrown on the ground before him, in proof of the pu- 
nishment with which she had avenged her violated chastity. 

Dr. Gillies' s History of the World from Alexander to 
Augustus. 



[61 ] 



<Sli)i0ttiata. 



SCENE, the Camp of the Telisthoboii. 

iliTd brace me not, my husband ! though return'd 
From a captivity more terrible 
Than subterranean darkness ; worse than chains, 
Or midnight summons to the rack, no joy 
Should gratulate my coming : thou must hear 
If as thy wife, the mother of those babes 
Who bear thy mirror'd likeness, I am still 
Worthy that virtuous name. 

Ortiagonf 
Where was thy arm, when that ill-fated chance 
Threw me a helpless captive, left to beg 
A Roman's mercy ? Mercy ! oh ye gods ! 
As they have shewn to my dejected state 
Compassion, so be merciful to them ! 

My countrymen ! ye deem that in our breasts 
Lives something; of a nature more refin'd 



62 CHIOMARA. 

Than in the breasts of men: that we are warm'd 
With a diviner spirit ; and that heaven 
Hath oft inspir'd us in the battle-hour 
With supernatural ardour; with the breath 
Of wonderous prophecy. 

But there are men, 
Yea, there are beings in the form of men, 
In whom the glorious aspect of our sex 
W T orks not these holy sympathies : who gaze 
On our pure forms, the temples of the gods, 
Where oft their spirit dwells, with brutish eyes 
Of sensual appetite : such men are they 
Who war against our race ; who track our haunts 
In marshes and in wilderness of woods 
That they may wade in blood; the blood of babes 
Who suck their mother's breasts; the blood of those 
Whose locks are white with venerable age. 
These men would sweep us from the earth ; would mix 
Our crumbling bones with fire ; and bid the grave 
Swallow us up ; ourselves, our very race, 
Sires and their sons, as we had never been ! — 
As if the gods who call'd us into life 
Errd in their wisdom ; or as if to live 
Were possible, unless with liberty ! 

Oh, it were sweeter far to taste of death 
Than feel this bitterness of shame ; the sting 
Of this self-loathing ; inexpressible, 
Indignant horror ! — Xo — thou shalt not fold 
Pollution to thv bosom.— Start not back- — 



CHIOMARA. 63 

Hear me a little moment; for to me 
Thy reverence, oh my husband ! is the all 
For which I bear to live ; and thou shalt yet 
Revere me, though degraded. 

Yea — the deed 
Which burning anger hath not breath to name, 
The deed of darkness and of infamy 
Is done: but that centurion, whose fell grasp, 
More hateful than the serpent's twining folds, 
Enshackled my free form, had sought in vain 
By open and conflicting violence 
To wreak his damned purpose. By the gods! 
These hands should first have torn his orbs of sight 
From forth their bleeding sockets, or comprest 
His throat in the grasp of death. Base, treach'rous, cold, 
Hard-hearted villain! — he beheld me faint 
With hunger : parch'd my lips and hot my pulse 
With thirst intolerable ; and weary and weak 
In body and in mind : he smooth'd his looks 
With seeming kindness ; oh , all-patient heaven ! 
The faith of righteous hospitality 
He pledg'd and violated. Ye are Gauls! 
I marvel not that this astonishment 
Frowns on your lifted brows ; ye have not known 
What is a Roman. 

I was grateful then; 
Refresh'd by food and wine, I felt the glow 
Of thankfulness ; the confidence of trust ; 
Oh shamelessly! oh barbarously abus'd! 



64 CHIOMARA. 

Some philtre accursed lock'd my senses up ; 
I wak'd again polluted, and beheld 
My ravish er! 

A little moment yet 
Grant me your patience. Ye have sent the price 
Of ransom. Husband ! it was more to me 
Than rescue, for it gave the blessed means 
Of a wrong'd woman's vengeance. Judge if yet 
I do deserve the name. 

[She produces from underneath her robe the head of 
the centurion. 

Ortiagon ! 
While bending o'er the gold, by his own sword 
He fell, and Chiomara gave the blow ! 
The passport open'd to our steps a way 
Through the foe's watchful camp ; while in his tent 
That man unmerciful a headless corse 
Was left ; and lo ! the spectacle of death ! 
Those livid features witness to the truth : 
I have no more to utter ; thou mayst now 
Embrace me ; husband ! I am worthy thee I 






a?u$in0& 



[ tf ] 



% Reflection on J>untiap aborning* 



It is the Sabbath morn : The landscape smiles 
Calm in the sun ; and silent are the hills 
And vallies, and the blue serene of air. 
The sea scarce trembles to the rippling gale, 
Bright in tranquillity. The vanish 'd lark 
Breaks faint the silence, and disturbs it not. 

Oh, native isle belov'd ! by rounding waves 
Bosom'd remote, and hallow'd from the world ! 
What needs the dimly purpled light that glows 
Through imag'd glass, or what the measur'd chaunt 
Of monkish strains to the deep organ's peal, 
To rouse devotion ? when thy clifts resound 
The wave's mild murmur, and thy thickets green 
Ring with the song of birds ? when flowers in dew 
Exhale their fragrance, and the sense is cheer'd 
By air and sunshine? While fanatic groans, 
Breath'd from a gloomy spirit, rise to Him 
Who spread this verdure o'er the fields, who bade 
These violets spring, and lighted up the sun, 



68 REFLECTION ON 

Be mine with silence of the heart to praise 
His mercies, and adore his name of love. 

Hail, scene of beauty ! scene of Sabbath calm ! 
Thou greenest earth ! thou blue and boundless heaven ! 
Thou sea, reposing like a stilly lake ! 
Hail ye, that blend your silence with the soul ! 

Around, the unimaginable God 
Moves visible to faith : but unconfus'd 
With these, the works and w onders of his hand : 
These intercept his presence ; not reveal; 
He sojourns not in clouds, nor is the light 
His essence : mingled with the common mass 
Of elements, as ancient sages dream 'd ; 
God and his creatures one. Beyond the scope 
Of sense, the incommunicable mind 
Dwelleth ; and they, who with corporeal eye 
Adoring nature's beauteous forms, discern 
Intelligence in colours and in shades ; 
In sunlight, and the glimmer of the moon; 
Who deem their worship holy, when they hear 
A God in empty winds, and in the sounds 
Of waters — they have bow'd th' idolatrous knee 
Before material atoms ! these are his, 
But not himself : suspended by his breath 
They are, and at his voice may cease to be. 
Away from us these mystic vanities, 
This heathen's wisdom, and this poet's creed: 
Away from us the morbid sympathy 
That blends itself with rocks and trees ; that stoops 



SUNDAY MORNING. 69 

To fellowship with brutes ; that finds a soul 

In every bird that flits along the sky, 

A life in every leaf and every flower. 

Be thine the adoration; thine the praise, 

And love, and wonder, thou, whose name is One ! 

And be thy Sabbath holy to thyself. 






[70] 



Retrospection. 



Is there who, when long years have past away, 
Revisits in his manhood's prime the spot 
Where stray d his careless boyhood, nor in trance 
Of recollection lost, feels silent joy 
Flow in upon his heart ? Whatever cares 
Enthrall his weary spirit, let him feel 
The gale upon his cheek, that whispering waves 
The well-known tuft of trees, and dimples slow 
The recollected stream, thought's busy train 
Shall glance like pictured shadows o'er his mind : 
Each airy castle of enthusiast youth 
Shall dawn upon his fancy, like the towers 
That sparkle in some forest of romance: 
Each shade of circumstance that mark'd the scene 
Of young existence, touch'd with fairy tint 
Sheds beauty not its own: that life of hope 
And generous expectation, when the man 



RETROSPECTION. 7 1 

Was teeming in the boy, and the young mind, 
Pleas'd with its own exertion, acted o'er 
Each future impulse, and put forth the germs 
Of native character. It cannot be — 
Unless his heart is deaden'd by the touch 
Of that mere worldliness, which hugs itself 
In a factitious apathy of soul ; 
Unless, in vain and vacant ignorance, 
He wondering smiles at those high sympathies, 
Those pure, unworldly feelings, which exalt 
Our nature o'er the sphere of actual things; 
Which lend the poet's gaze its exstacy, 
And bid the trembling note of music steal 
Tears down the listener's cheek; — it cannot be 
But his whole heart must soften and relent 
Amid these peaceful scenes; but the deep griefs 
Which time has stamp'd upon his furrow'd brow 
Must for a moment smooth their thoughtful trace; 
And ev'n the long remorse wild passion leaves, 
Rest from the goading of its secret sting. 
Scene of my boyish years ! I not disown 
These natural feelings. Let me rest awhile 
Here on this grassy bank ; beneath these elms 
Whose high boughs murmur with the leafy sound 
That sooth'd me when a child : when, truant-like, 
Of the dull chime that summon'd me afar 
Nought heeding, by the river-wave I lay, 
Of liberty enamour'd, and the Muse. 
As yon gray turrets rest in trembling shade 



?2 RETROSPECTION. 

On its transparent depth, the days long past 

Press on awaken'd fancy; when, averse 

From sport, I wander'd on its loneliest banks, 

Where not a sound disturb'd the quiet air 

But such as fitly blends with silentness ; 

The whispering sedge — the ripple of the stream, 

Or bird's faint note : and not a human trace, 

Save of some hamlet-spire in woods immerst, 

Spake to the sight of earth's inhabiters. 

Then have I rush'd, prone from the topmost bank, 

And given my limbs to struggle with the stream, 

And midst those waters felt a keener life. 

How soft thy milky temperature of wave, 

Salubrious Thames! associate with delight 

Thy stream to thrilling fancy flows, when faint 

I languish in the sun-blaze; and with thee 

Ingenuous friendships, feats of liberty 

That reck'd not stern control, and gravely sweet 

The toils of letter'd lore, and the kind smile 

Of Him,* who, ev'n upbraiding, could be kind, 

* Of Mr. Savage, whose name must ever be associated with 
the blandi doctoresoi Horace, let me be permitted to indulge the 
rememhrance. His system of tuition was calculated to exem- 
plify the theory of the admirable Locke. He made instruction 
pleasant; and was therefore listened to and cbeyed on a prin- 
ciple of love. Should these insignificant pages ever meet his 
eye, he may not be displeased to find that 

The Muse attends him to the silent shade. 

I trust I shall be forgiven the excusable egotism , of paying this 
tribute of giatitude and respect to an elegant scholar, and most 
amiable man. 



RETROSPECTION. 73 

On sooth'd remembrance throng. I would not feign 

A fond repining which I did not feel; 

I would not have the intermediate years 

Roll back to second infancy, nor live 

Again the life that haunts my memory thus 

With sweet sensations: for the simple child 

Is all unconscious of his pleasant lot; 

His little world, like man's vast universe, 

Is darken'd by its storms; and he, like man, 

Creates his own disquietudes and fears ; 

And oft with murmurings vain of discontent, 

Or bursts of idle passion, personates 

His future part; the character of man. 

No — 'tis the cant of mock misanthropy 

That dwells on childish pleasures ; which the child 

With light insensibility enjoys, 

Or rather scorns;" while on his eager view 

The future prospect opens, still in sight, 

Still ardently desir'd. The Power all-wise 

Alike to manhood and to infancy 

Has dealt the dole of pleasures and of pains ; 

And manhood has its toys ; its happy dreams ; 

Its gay anticipations, ev'n as youth. 

Not with a sigh of mournful, vain regret 

I visit these green haunts; this placid stream; 

But, while the scene to memory's retrospect 

Reflects th' illusive tint which fancy throws 

Upon the distant past, Hope too expands 

Her gilded prospects ; and the future smile ; 



74 RETROSPECTION. 

Her gilded prospects : and the future smile; 
With colours indistinct, but beautiful 
As the dim clouds by gleams of daybreak ting'd 
Ere the red sun-rise paints the mountain's brow: 
I so am fram'djthat no depressing gloom 
Has power to damp my shaping energies ; 
But still, as when a child, my glance can dart 
Bright o'er the illumin'd future, and create 
Its own ideal world of hope and joy. 



[75] 



Anticipation* 



IVlosT pleasant is that rural dwelling-place; 

The eye that rests upon it is refresh'd 

By that cool, vernal greenness ; by that lawn 

Of level herbage, and those trees that high 

Rear their arch'd branches o'er the shaded roof. 

Not wild in savageness of solitude 

The circling scene ; yet sylvan quietude 

Breathes o'er those thickets, and those upland fields; 

'Twixt whose declivities a stony brook 

Creeps bubbling through the tangled underwood, 

And gleams in distant sunshine : the dim smoke 

Of the far city with the landscape clear 

Not unharmonious blends. I love the sight ; 

Nor from the lake and forest would exclude 

The distant tower ; the clouds that vapoury rise 

From human habitations: they recall 

The busy interest of the living scene, 



76 ANTICIPATION, 

Letters and arts, the social intercourse 

Of wit; the cheerful countenance of man. 

I would not bury in a hermit vale 

The feelings and the sympathies that link 

Man to his fellow, nor invoke the woods 

To breathe their language, and the senseless rocks 

To answer me, when I may hear the voice 

Of fellow-beings, and by woman's smile 

Soften the temper's harsh asperities. 

I would not sit recluse, till the worn mind 

Prey'd on itself, and cheerfulness was shunn'd 

As an unwish'd intruder. No — to me 

The city and the hum of multitudes 

Teem with a stronger interest of delight 

Than scenes, however fair, of solitude, 

Where trees are our companions, and the clouds 

Our sole intelligencers. Wherefore, then, 

Does the wreath'd woodbine round the cottage porch 

Seem lovely ? — 'tis the sacredness of home 

Invests it with a charm. I there may sit 

With children round my knees ; and find at length 

That for which long I sigh'd, the careless ease 

Of freedom, and an independant will. 

The turmoil of a tost and wandering life 

Has weigh'd upon my spirit : I have long'd 

To throw my limbs beneath the canopy 

Of some green oak, and at the hillock's foot 

View the clear brooklet gemm'd with sun-beams glide 

Among the stones of moss; for there the gaze 



ANTICIPATION. 77 

Roves unconfin'd; midst mountains, woodlands, rocks, 
The broad horizon, and the rounding sea, 
Freedom is felt; but let the city-smoke 
Wreathe its dark vapour on the distant air. — 
And now at length the bliss of certain hope 
Preys on my thought like some unquiet thing : 
Yes, were I pent in murkiest walls : were mine 
To hear no music but the clash of wheels; 
Saw I no moonshine silvering the deep blue 
Of yonder arching heavens, but the dim light 
Of lamps that glimmer'd through the smoky mist; 
Were it my home, I there should centre all 
Of peace, of beauty, of content, of joy. 
Not that I lightly deem of nature's scenes, 
Which on the painter's eye, the poet's mind. 
Beam inspiration. He in whom I live 
A second life, child of my youth, shall know 
The scenes of nature ; and his foot shall climb 
The mountain, and shall print the ocean-shore: 
His ear shall drink the melody of birds, 
And flocks; of winds, and rills, and whispering boughs; 
His eye shall gaze the sunset's ruddy light, 
And grow enamour'd of the gliding moon; 
And thus to him shall solitude become 
A season of all pleasantness ; and thoughts 
Of virtue steal through beauty on his heart: 
And he shall bear within himself a spell 
To soothe each grief, and every bliss reiine ; 
A nameless and inseparable charm 



78 ANTICIPATION. 

Of lonely joy. 

But never shall he find 
The cot a cloister ; nor the flowery field 
A wilderness.. From them he shall return 
With keener zest to scenes of varied life, 
And mingle with his kind. His reason thus 
Shall kindle, and his faculties discern 
Vice in its naked horror. Wisdom thus 
Shall be his guard ; and in the walks of men 
The lessons of experience shall be found, 
That midst the woods and fields are sought in vain. 



r h 



79] 



^pmpatDf, 



EXCITED BY INANIMATE NATURE. 



Kom antic is this valley : fair the scene 

Of rolling T*aves, and mountains faintly blue 

Beyond the crag, whose green declivity 

O'erhangs that cottage, by the fig-tree broad 

Inwreath'd, the vine-branch, and the climbing rose. 

Aloft the cypress and the sycamore 

Wave in the wind ; the leafy arbute spreads 

A snow of blossoms, and on every bough 

Its vermeil fruitage glitters to the sun. 

Yet in my bosom feelings undefin'd 

Of melancholy mingle, as along 

The grass-grown paths with branches intricate 

Of straggling shrubs, my tangled footstep slow 

Rustles ; though more luxuriant from neglect 

Blooms the deserted haunt ; and though the birds, 

That long unus'd to man's intruding step, 



80 SYMPATHY. 

Scarce startle at ray presence, bend the spray 
With fluttering wing, and gurgle their sweet notes 
With forest wildness. Mother ! in these groves 
Were past thy childhood hours of happiness; 
And in this solitude thine eye hath lov'd 
To mark the cypress and the sycamore 
Wave in the wind : and therefore does the vine 
Wreathe its green tendrils, and the rose-tree bloom 
As in a desert : more from that still sense 
Of inward sadness than from outward things, 
Which in themselves are beautiful and gay : 
Fair is the scene, and to my thought it strikes 
A sadder sympathy, because so fair. 






[81] 



2toeam& 



J. hat sage hath never laid on fancy's lap 

His charmed head, by sweet, ideal sounds 

Of melody entranc'd, who deems the sense 

Of conscious life in gentle slumber lost: 

Who yielding up himself to stealing sleep, 

As to a sad necessity, beholds 

Elate, the dawnlight's golden glimm'ring streak 

His curtain'd couch ; then springs impatient forth 

And boasts he feels existence. But to me 

Sweet is the trance of slumber : sweet th' escape 

From life's realities to fancy's world 

Of vision'd happiness : the throbs of hope, 

The smiles of rapture ; voices breathing love, 

Delightful shapes, and scenes of faery-laud ; 

To memory's pleasures and the fleeting joys 

That seem'd for ever flown ; but nightly wing 

Their backward flight, and hover o'er my brow. 

Such recognitions vivid and soul-felt, 



82 DREAMS. 

The work of wonder-shaping intellect, 

Wake when the body sleeps. Xo day-dream wild 

On river-brink, beneath the beech-tree's gloom, 

Can with such clear distinctness to the soul 

Picture the groups of faded bliss ; or call 

Such light, aerial phantasies of joy 

To float around the brain. Thou lovely moon, 

Companion of my bed ! I would invoke 

Thy influence ; now from ocean's trembling verge 

Lift thy full orb, that reddening through the woods 

Gleams like a sanguine shield ; till slow it climbs, 

And lessens as it climbs ; and hovering high 

In the blue calm of ether, sheds abroad 

Its white effulgence. Through my heart I feel 

Thy influence" glide ; thy beams of snowy light 

Steal on mine eyes, and swimming slumber veils 

The consciousness of vision : then awake 

The eye and ear of fancy : then the soul 

Slides round the visionary sphere, more swift 

And wildly sportive, than the swallow's wing 

That hovering skims the surface of the stream. 

Oh happy ! whom imagination seeks 

Where'er he rests his head ; on feathery down, 

Or the hard pallet ; on the reeling deck 

Scourg'd by the waves ; or on the moonshine bank, 

Bower'd by the hazel's foliage, where the dew 

On primrose and on violet hangs its gems. 

The lover — no, reality itself 

Scarce equals that blest moment, when he grasps 



DREAMS. 



ss 



The hand so long with -held, that trembles soft 

Within his trembling pressure : when his eyes 

Drink in the lucid languishment of look 

That thrills the shivering nerves ; the mystic glance 

Avowing all unutterable things, 

And kindling hope to madness. Rise not yet, 

Unwelcome sun! for never shall he know 

So sweet a moment: never, though he clasp 

Possession, shall he feel an hour like that; 

When ev'n impossibility gave way 

At Fancy's bidding : and the sighs, the smiles, 

The murmur'd accents, and the glowing touch, 

Heard, felt, and seen, in slumber's ecstacy, 

Mingled the zest of mystery with bliss, 

The tumult of amazement ! These are thine, 

Creative slumber ! by thy magic power 

Consign'd to more than mortal blessedness 

The poet smiles ; and muses that the bough 

Of ivy wreathes his temples : that the car 

Triumphal bears him to the fane on high, 

Where sat Petrarca with his laurel crown: 

That blushing maidens roll their sparkling eyes 

To gratulate his coming : and entwine 

With ivory fingers myrtle and the rose, 

To shadow him with showers of paradise. 

By slumber's charm, whole oceans interpos'd 

Shrink, and are dry : the friend whom chance of war 

Had sever'd from thee, sits beside thee now, 

As in time past: the self-same oak above 



84 



DREAMS. 



Expands its dome of leaves ; the rivulet sends 
The same cool murmur to thy tranquil ear: 
And sweet it is, to stretch thy limbs in shade 
Beside the man thou lov'st, and feel the hours 
In blithest converse with the rivulet's haste 
Glide fast away. By secret sympathy 
The tender wife amid the city's crowds 
Perchance awhile forgotten, twines in sleep 
Around the fibres of the conscious brain; 
And the heart melts, to know that placid smile 
So fond and so confiding" : then the gloom 
Of midnight brightens : "tis the scene of home! — 
Beneath noon's azure arch the sunny field 
Spreads green its flowery grass ; he looks, he sees 
The graceful boy's clear eye, and forehead pure 
As very snow ; he sees his crisped locks 
Unravelling on the breeze their flaxen rings, 
The whilst his bounding feet elastic leap 
Among the meadow-lambs and hedge-row birds. 
The fellows of his pastime : lo ! again — 
The fire-side light reflects on rubied cheeks, 
And little hands are twin'd within his grasp ; 
The prattled tale, the scream of merriment, 
The babe's sweet laughter and half tottering step, 
The mother's gaze of modest ardency, 
Ail, all are present; and the well-known group 
Dawns like a vision on the slumbering man. 
Ch gentle sleep ! thy silent potency 
Can teach the happy keener happiness; 



DREAMS. 



85 



Can cheer the wretched with a glimpse of bliss. 
Nay — the dark grave is open'd ; and the form 
Of loveliness that slept, once more awakes ; 
And blooms, and smiles, and musically speaks, 
And fires the brain with such delirious joy, 
That oh ! it were felicity to dream, 
For ever thus, nor wake, unless in heaven. 



I 



<£iegieg of $ropettiu£. 



Detached translations from Propertius have appeared in different 
miscellany collections. Of these it may be sufficient to 
notice the Dream, elegantly imitated by Fenton ; and the 
three first Elegies of the first book freely translated by Mr. 
Preston, the translator of the Argonautics of Apollonius 
Rhodius, They find a place in the Poetical Register for 
1804 ; the numbers, with some few exceptions of aukward 
construction, are singularly terse and finished. Bat the 
only considerable portion of Propertius in English, is a ver- 
sion of the first book, entitled Monobiblos, or Cynthia, 8vo. 
London, 1782. Of the classical neatness and accuracy of 
this version the reader needs not be told, when he learns 
that it is from the pen of the translator of Catullus. 

Propertius is in some respects confessedly the imitator of 
Tibullus :* yet we are told by Quintilian that there were not 
wanting those who preferred the former. Tibullus is more 
smooth and perspicuous ; more simple and easy in style ; 
but there is, perhaps, more of vivid reality, of spirit, and 
variety in Propertius. The softness of his more tender and 
impassioned pieces is contrasted with a vein of lively sarcasm 
and cutting satire; nor is he without that elevation of 
thought and vigour of expression, which approach to sub- 
limity. 

The following specimens may be considered as marking the 



* The order of time in which they flourished is registered by 
Ovid. Trist. iv. 9. 

Virgil I but beheld ; and greedy Fate 
Denied Tibullus' friendship, wish'd too late; 
He follow'd Gallus; next Propertius came; 
The last was I— the fourth successive name. 



progress which I had made towards a complete translation 
of his Elegies, but the experiment has inclined me to doubt 
its success. It is to be feared that the licentiousness of this 
poet must for ever exclude him from a complete reception 
into the class of English literature. His style is also fre- 
quently encumbered by a mass of mythological allusion ; 
which to a modern reader must inevitably carry an appear- 
ance of pedantry. This learned style is judiciously objected 
to by Mr. Dart, in the preface to hisTibullus,* as abhorrent 
from the nature of elegy ; and the comparative popularity 
of Tibullus may, perhaps, be accounted for on these simple 
grounds. The constant obligation of referring to notes 
would form a serious impediment to the reader's facility, 
and consequently, to his pleasure. For these reasons a se- 
lection from Propertius appears to be the only effectual 
method of awakening a sensibility to his merits. 
The critic will bear in mind that no classic author is so en- 
tangled with various readings, or betrays such evident marks 
of internal disarrangement and perplexity, as Propertius. 
The occasional disagreement in the order of the translated 
and original elegies will explain itself, if the edition of 
Burman be collated with the Leipsic edition of Kuinoel. 
The omissions are distinguished by asterisks. 



* In this now forgotten translation are some good lines ; 
witness the following couplet, El. 7. B. I. 

Or with her finger-talk her plots disguise, 
Or cheat thee with the silent speech of eyes* 






[91] 



(Lib. II. El. 4. ) 



rS o — thou must oft thy mistress' crimes arraign, 

And oft some favour ask, but ask in vain; 

Thy unoffending nails tear one by one, 

And stamp the foot, long wavering to be gone. 

In vain with fragrant oils I bath'd my head, 

In vain stepp'd slow with soft and mincing tread ; 

Have I not been of every seer the prey ? 

Of every crone who gives our dreams to day ? 

Avail not simples: herbs of charming power; 

Nor magic orgies in the midnight hour; 

Hidden the cause, but open is the blow ; 

Unknown the fountain whence the mischiefs flow. 

The patient droops — but him no bed of down 

Shall e'er restore, nor leech of sage renown; 

Unhurt by air or sky, no art can save, 

He breathes, he walks, and drops into the grave. 

Superior thus to remedy shall prove 

Whatever bears the dangerous name of love. 



92 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 



€kgn II. 

(Lib. II. El. 5.) 



1 h e h wide through Rome — and is it, Cynthia, true ? 

Thy name is blown, thy wanton actions fly ; 
Look'd I for this ? — this, traitress ! thou shalt rue $ 

The northern wind shall teach me constancy. 

One whom thy sex's treachery less inspires 
I'll seek ; who from my song will covet fame? 

Whose shamelessness will not insult my fires, 
"Whose nimble tongue shall scandalize thy name. 

Oh, long belov'd ! too late thy tears will flow ! 

Now fresh my fury ; let me now depart ; 
When anger cools, alas ! too well I know 

Love will resume his influence o ; er mv heart 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIES. 93 

Not so the north-wind turns Carpathian* tides, 
Nor blackening clouds the veering south obey ; 

As at a word the lover sooth'd subsides — 

Loose then th' uuequal yoke while yet we may. 

And thou, not wholly from compunction free, 
Wilt somewhat grieve ; but only on the night 

When thy late lover first is miss'd by thee ; 
All ills of love become by patience light. 

But oh, by Juno's dear, protecting name, 

Harm not thyself, nor give these passions rein; 

Not the horn'd bull alone will wrongs inflame ; 
E'en the mild sheep, if injur'd, turns again. 

I will not from thy perjur'd bosom tear 

The vest away; thy bolted chamber storm; 

Pluck with infuriate grasp thy braided hair, 
Nor with hard nails thy tender cheeks deform : 

Thus let the rustic churl his anger show; 

To such these base revenges I resign ; 
Around whose uninitiated brow 

Ne'er shall the Muse's ivy chaplet twine ; 

* The sea between Rhodes and Egypt took its name from the 
island Carpathus, now called Scarpante. It was considered 
itormy. 



94 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

But I will write — what thou wouldst blot in vain; 

Of Cynthia — Cynthia, beautiful and frail ; 
Fame's busy murmurs thou raayst still disdain, 

Yet this my verse shall dye thy cheek with pale. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 



<£iegp in. 

(Lib. II. El. 6.) 






1 u e forms of youths and gods, that beauteous rise 

Around thy pictur'd roof, offend mine eyes. 

The tender, lisping babe by thee carest 

Within its cradle, wounds my jealous breast. 

I fear thy mother's kiss : thy sister dread, 

Suspect the virgin partner of her bed : 

Suspect, am hurt by all : a lover lies, 

Forgive my terrors, in the robe's disguise. 

Blest was Admetus' spouse ; and blest the dame 

Who shar'd Ulysses' couch in modest fame ; 

Oh ! ever happy shall the fair one prove 

Who by her husband's threshold bounds her love. 

Ah ! why should Modesty's pure fane ascend, 

Why at her shrine the blushing maiden bend ; 

If when she weds, her passions spurn control, 

If the bold matron sates her wishful soul ? 

The hand that first in glowing colours drew 

Round the chaste mansion groups that shame the view, 



96 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Made artless minds in crime's refinements wise, 
And flash 'd enlightening vice on virgin eyes. 
Curse on the wretch whose art could love destroy 
By veil'd design of mute insidious joy ! 
Not thus the roofs were deck'd in elder time, 
Nor the stain'd walls were painted with a crime. 
Then for some cause the desert fanes of Rome 
Wave with rank grass, while spiders veil the dome. 
What guards, oh Cynthia! shall thy path confine? 
What threshold bound that wilful foot of thine ? 
Weak is constraint if women loth obey, 
And she is safe, who blushing fears to stray. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 97 



4BIegp IV. 

(Lib. II. El. 9.) 



JN o w thy gay laugh midst circling goblets flies, 

Myself, perchance, thy raillery's sacrifice : 

E'en him thou seek'st, who late forsook thy charms ; 

Then may the Gods consign him to thine arms ! 

But when in tears we stood around thy bed, 

When Styx had nigh o'erwhelm'd thy sinking head, 

When my fond vows were silent breath'd for thee, 

Where then, perfidious ! where and what was he ? 

Wouhfst thou for me thus fondly breathe the prayer, 

Did I to farthest Ind the standard bear ; 

Or in mid-ocean were my vessel plac'd, 

A lonely speck amidst the watery waste ? 

Yes — words and smooth deceits are thine at will ; 

This task is easy to a woman still. 

Not Afric's sands so fluctuate to the blast, 

Or quivering leaves on wintery gales are cast, 



98 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

As passion's gust bids woman's promise fiy 5 
Be rage the cause, or be it levity. 
And must thou thus, Propertius ! in the bloom 
Of opening youth, descend into the tomb ? 
Must thou then die ? Yes, die — that she may view 
Thy corse with smiles ; thy fleeting ghost pursue 
With her tormenting scorn ; disturb thee dead ; 
Leap on thy pyre, and on thy ashes tread. 

* * * # * * *.* 

Witness the stars ! the dews of morning's hour ; 
The stealthy door which open'd to thy bower: 
That nought in life more precious was to me, 
And still I love thee, yes, in spite of thee ! 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 99 



(Lib. II. El. 11.) 



Be prais'd by others, or unknown remain ; 
Who sings thy praise will sow a barren plain ; 
The funeral couch, that last, that gloomy day, 
Shall bear these offerings with thyself away : 
The traveller o'er thy slighted bones shall tread 
With heedless foot, neglectful of the dead ; 
Nor lingering at thy nameless grave declare 
" This heap of dust was an accomplish'd fair."* 



* Even while uttering a prophecy dictated by jealous resent- 
ment, he cannot forbear sliding into an elegant compliment. 
The real name of the lady, whom he celebrates by the name of 
Cynthia, appears, from the testimony of Apuleius, to have been 
Hostia, or Hostilia. Of her accomplishments and erudition he 
elsewhere speaks in the most flattering terms. 






Not her complexion charm' d me ; though more white 
Shines not the lily's bell ; like Scythian snows 

Blent with Iberian red its hues unite, 
Or in pure milk as floats the scatter'd rose. " 



100 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Not that through silken folds of Araby 
The nymph's fine limbs with lucid motion gleam— 

(For no ideal beauties heaves my sigh. 
Nor airy nothings prompt the lover's theme) : 

Not all so charms as when aside she lays 
The mantling cup, and glides before my view: 

Graceful as Ariadne, through the maze 

Of chcral dance, with Bacchic revellers flew. 

Or when she tunes to verse the Sapphic wire, 
Deep-skiil'd in Aganippe's warbled strain ; 

And challenges Corinna's classic lyre, 
And hears Erinne's numbers with disdain. 

When first, sweet soul! you saw the light of heaven, 
Did favouring Love with shrillest omen sneeze? 

The gods have these thy rare endowments given, 
The gods have given — nor from thy mother these. 

El. 3. B. II, 






ELEGIES OF PROPERTITJS. 101 

€Iegp VI. 

(Lib. II. El. 12.) 



IJAD he not hands of rare device, whoe'er 
First painted Love in figure of a boy ? 

He saw what thoughtless beings lovers were, 
Who blessings lose, whilst lightest cares employ. 

Nor added he those airy wings in vain, 

And bade through human hearts the godhead fly : 
For we are tost upon a varying main; 

Our gale inconstant veers around the sky. 

Nor without cause he grasps those barbed darts, 
The Cretan quiver o'er his shoulder cast: 

Ere we suspect a foe he strikes our hearts, 
And those inflicted wounds for ever last. 

In me are fix'd those arrows; in my breast, 
But sure his wings are shorn, the boy remains; 

For never takes he flight, nor knows he rest; 
Still, still I feel him warring through my veins. 



102 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

In these scorcht vitals dost thou joy to dwell ? — 
Oh shame ! to others let thy arrows flee : 

Let veins untouch'd with all thy venom swell, 
Not me thou torturest, but the shade of me. 

Destroy me — who shall then describe the fair ? 

This my light Muse to thee high glory brings ; 
When the nymph's tapering fingers, flowing hair, 

And eyes of jet, and gliding feet she sings. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 103 



dEIesp VIL 

(Lib. II. EL 13.) 



X e w e r the Persic darts in Susa's bands 

Than in my breast those arrows sheath 'd by Love; 

He not to scorn the tender Muse commands, 
And bids my dwelling be th' Ascraean grove.* 

Not that Pierian oaks may seek my lyre, 

Nor savage beasts from vales Ismarian throng, 

But that my Cynthia may the strain admire, 
And I than Linus rise more fam'd in sons:. 



* The old Abbe de Marolles, whose translation of Propertius 
contains in an average proportion about as many blunders as 
lines, supposes here a reference to Hesiodi: " C'est lui qui nYa 
commande d'habiter ainsi les bois qui furent autrefois cheris par 
le fameux Hesiode." But it would be difficult to discover the 
point of contact between Hesiod and Propertius : the one the re- 
viler of the sex, the other its idolater. Ascraean is a mere, general 
epithet, and has no reference but to mount Helicon, at whose 
foot was the village of Ascra. 






104 ELEGIES OF PROPERT1US. 

Not an engaging form so charms mine eye : 
Not so the fair-one's noble lineage moves ; 

As on tlr accomplish'd nymph's soft breast to lie, 
And read what she with chastend ear approves. 

Be this my lot, and henceforth I despise 

The mingled babblings of the vulgar throng ; 

What are to me e'en Jove's dread enmities 
If she appeas'd relent, and love my song ?— 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 105 



dEIesp VIII. 

(Lib. II. El. 14.) 



Ihen soon as night o'ershades my dying eyes, 
Hear my last charge : let no procession trail 

Its lengthen'd pomp to grace my obsequies, 
No trump with empty moan my fate bewail. 

Let not the ivory stand my bier sustain ; 

Nor on embroider'd vests my corse recline ; 
Nor odour-breathing censers crowd the train: 

The poor man's mean solemnities be mine. 

Enough of state — enough, if of my verse 

Three slender rolls be borne with pious care 5 

No greater gift, attendant on my herse, 

Can soothe the breast of hell's imperial fair. 

But thou slow-following beat thy naked breast, 
Nor weary faint with calling on the dead : 

Be thy last kisses to my cold lips prest, 
While alabaster vases unguents shed. 



106 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

When flames the pyre, and I am embers made, 
My relics to an earthen shell* convey; 

Then plant a laurel that the tomb may shade 
Where my quench 'd ashes rest, and grave the lay : 

" What here a heap of shapeless ashes lies 
" Was once the faithful slave of love alone 5" 

Then shall my sepulchre renown'd arise 
As dead Achilles' blood-besprinkled stone. t 

And thou, whene'er thou yieldest thus to fate, 
Oh, dear one! seek the memorable way 

Already trod ; the mindful stones await 
Thy second coming, and for thee they stay. 

Meantime, whilst life endures, oh, warn'd beware 
Lest thou the buried lover shouldst despise ; 

Not mouldering ashes quite unconscious are, 
The senseless clay is yet to injuries wise. 

* The ashes were collected from the pyre in an earthen vessel, 
previous to being deposited in the sepulchral urn. 

f Polyxena, says fabulous history, the betrothed of Achilles, 
cither sacrificed herself, or was sacrificed at his tomb. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 107 



€ltgp IX. 

(Lib. II. EI. 15.) 



Ah ! would some kinder fate, while yet I lay 
In cradled sleep, had bid me breathe my last! 

What boots the breath of our precarious day ? 
Nestor is dust, his three long ages past. 

On Ilium's rampart had the Phrygian spear 
Abridg'd his age, and sent a swifter doom ; 

He ne'er had seen his son's untimely bier, 
Nor cried " Oh Death ! why art thou slow to come ?" 

Thou thy lost friend shalt many a time deplore, 
And love may ever last for those who die ; 

Witness Adonis, when the ruthless boar 

Smote on th' Idalian mount his snowy thigh. 



108 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

There Venus wept the beauteous hunter's fall, 
Trod the dank soil,* and bade her tresses flow ; 

Thou vainly, Cynthia ! wouldst my ghost recall; 
Can these my crumbled bones speak back thy woe ? 

* The marsh ; the haunt of the wild boars. For the trite tale 
of Adonis see Ovid's Metamorphoses, x. 503. Bion, Idyl. i. 
Theocritus, Idyl. SO. The whiteness of the skin of Adonis is 
adverted to by Anacreon, 28. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERT1US. 109 



€Ie0p X. 

(Lib. II. El. 18.) 



Now comes the praetor from Illyria's land, 
My greatest torment, Cynthia's greatest gain: 

Oh, had he perish'd on Ceraunian* strand! — 
What gifts, oh Neptune ! then had deck'd thy fane ! 

Now at thy feasts another fills my seat, 
Unclos'd thy nightly door, but not for me : 

Then now, if wise, the proffer'd harvest meet, 
And sheer the silly sheep till fleec'd he be. 

* For the Ceraunian mountains of Epirus consult Strabo, vii. 
488. Horace speaks of their ill-famed rocks : infames scopulos : 
as noted for shipwrecks. Od. I. iii, 2o. Propertius has before al- 
luded to them in the eighth Elegy of the first book : 

Yet treat me as thou wilt, thou perjur'd maid, 
May Galatea still thy passage aid : 
And Oricum's calm coast, Ceraunia past 
With prosperous oars, receive thee safe at last. 

Translation of the Monobiblos or Cynthia. 



1 1 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

When, bare of his extorted wealth, he lies, 
To new Illyrias bid him steer the ship : 

No consul's honours draw my Cynthia's eyes, 
She weighs the gold that lines her lover's scrip. 



For gems she bids me to the deep repair, 

And bring from Tyre the robe that glows with red ; 

Oh that in Rome none ever wealthy were ! 

That ev'n the palace-roof with thatch were spread ! 

Then never mistress would unblushing sell 
The sordid favours of her venal charms 5 

Still in one mansion would the fair-one dwell, 
And age o'ertake her in her bridegroom's arms. 

Not that seven tedious nights estrang'd from me 
Thy snowy arms round that vile reptile twine ; 

Not, bear me witness, am I wroth with thee — 
The fair's proverbial levity is thine. 






But Eriphyle's* bitter gifts survey ! 

See Jason's bride with fiery torments glow ! — 
Ah ! can no wrongs my burning tears allay, 

Nor I the yice forsake, that feel the woe ? 

* Eriphyle was bribed by Polynices, with a golden necklace, 
to betray her husband, who hid himself, that he might not join 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 1 1 1 

Whole days have fled, and Mars his field to me, 
The Theatre, the Muse, no more are dear ; 

Blush at thy shame, yes, blush ; unless it be 
That a disgraceful passion cannot hear. 



Oh might those robes, those emeralds which he gave, 
Those chrysolites, that gleam with yellow light; 

Be swept by storms through air or o'er the wave, 
Be turn'd to earth or water in thy sight ! 

Not always Jove at lovers' perjuries 

Complacent laughs, nor deaf rejects the prayer? 
Mark'd ye the crash that roll'd along the skies, 

The lightnings darted through the vault of air ? 

No — not the Pleiads brood the tempest's ire, 
Not moist Orion wraps with clouds the sky ; 

No — for some special cause the glaring fire 
Falls in the terrors of its wrath from high. 

the expedition of the Argives against Thebes, which he fore- 
knew would be fatal to him. Amphiaraus was swallowed up 
by a gulph opening in the earth, and Eriphyle was murdered by 
her son Alcmseon in revenge of his father. 

Medea discovering that her husband Jason had married Creusa, 
sent her the present of a robe, or, as some say, a garland, en- 
venomed with magic poisons : which she unknowing accepted, 
and on wearing it was instantly consumed by unextinguishable 
fire. 



112 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Now Jove the perjur'd nymph rewards; for he, 
Although a god, has wept a treacherous fair : 

Not the Sidonian vest thy care should be, 
But tremble, false-one ! at the darkend air ! 






ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS 1 13 

oEIegp XL 

(Lib II. El. 19.) 



1 o fail the promis'd night, to lead with lies 

A lover's hopes, is murder in mine eyes. 

This sure as prophecy to me is known, 

Who many a bitter night have lain alone, 

Tost sore from side to side : — go now and sip 

Tantalean streams that mock thy thirsty lip ; 

Or toiling the Sisyphian rock behold 

With steep recoil from the whole mountain roll'd ; 

What as a loner's fate so hard can be, 

Or what, if wise- so little wish'd by thee ? 

I who have envy's admiration been 

On the tenth day am still excluded seen: 

Now would it please thy unrelenting soul 

If from the rock 1 ieap d, or drugg'd the bowl : 

Now in the public cross-ways must I lie 

While the decreasing moon* is dark on high ; 

* In the original sicca luna, during the dry moon ; this is 
equivalent to the luna sitims, thirsty moon, of Pliny : applied 

I 



114 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Or waste my breath in whispers, that implore 
Thy pity, through the crevice of thy door. 
Yet be it so — none other I'll pursue, 
And she shall weep to find that I am true. 

to the moon in conjunction with the sun : seemingly from the 
supposition that the moon then drinks the sun's rays. This dark 
quarter he also terms lunce silentium : the silence or dead time of 
the moon ; when the old moon is no longer visible, and the 
new not yet apparent. Propertius therefore means to complain 
that when the nights are darkest, he is obliged to lie in the 
streets. It may also be remarked that Vegetius speaks of the 
change of the moon as attended with storms. Horace intimates 
the same opinion. B. 1» Od, 25. Certainly an additional cause 
of discomfort to a man who makes his pillow on the steps of 
his mistress's door. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 115 



eitQp xil 

(Lib. II. El. 20.) 



Oft from incessant plaints has hatred sprung, 
And nymphs have soften'd to a silent tongue : 
If aught thou seest, deny that thou hast seen ; 
If griev'd, deny, that cause of grief has been. 
Inconstant Cynthia ! what if age with snow 
Had strewn my locks, and furrow'd deep my brow ? 

Though in my prime, thou viewst me with disdain; 
Thyself, perfidious ! in thy beauty's wane. 
Yes — not remote the day that shall deface 
With bending age thy figure's lofty grace. 
This thought has my diminish'd grief beguil'd, 
That love is wont to frown, where once he smil'd. 
Still dost thou fond with painted Britons vie, 
And toy with tresses dipp'd in shining dye : 
Beneath this earth may tortures wait the fair 
Who senseless changes her dissembling hair/ 



116 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Then wouldst thou charm, and ever beauteous be, 
Come oft, and beauteous thou wilt seem to me 
Be thou the guardian of thy faithful bed, 
Nor Tainly deck with gorgeous tire thy head. 
Beware — for I shall trust each tale of thee; 
Rumour has wings, and flies o'er earth and sea. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 117 

e\tm xiii. 

(Lib. II. El. 21.) 



Ihough with unwilling eyes from Rome I see 
Thy mourn'd departure, oh regretted maid ! 

Yet I rejoice that ev'n apart from me 
Thou seek'st the country's unfrequented shade. 

In the chaste fields no soft seducer sighs 
With blandishments that force thee to thy shame ; 

No wanton brawls before thy windows rise, 
Nor scar'd thy sleep with those that call thy name. 

Thou art in solitude — and all around 

Lone hills and herds and humble cots appear ; 

No theatres can here thy virtue wound, 
No fane's lascivious rites corrupt thee here. 

Thou shalt behold the steer the furrows turn, 
The sickle dexterous prune the leafy vine ; 

In chapel rude thy little incense burn, 
While falls the goat before a rustic shrine ; 



118 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

And with bare leg* the rural dance essay, 

Secure from every rival's prying sight; 
The chase be mine : alternate let me pay 

To Venus vows, and join Diana's rite. 

Chide the bold hound ; in woodland covert lie ; 

And hang the antler 'd spoil on pine-tree boughs; 
But no huge lion in his lair defy, 

Nor savage boar with nimble onset rouse. 

My prowess be to seize the timid hare, 
Or from my reedy quiver pierce the bird ; 

Nigh where Clitumnus winds his waters fair 

Through arching trees, and laves the snow-white herd. 

Whate'er thy sports, remember, sweetest soul ! 

A few short days will bring me to thy side : 
Not the lone woods ; the streams that gushing roll 

From crags of moss in many a mazy tide, 

Can so divert the jealousy of fear, 

t But that my tongue rings changes on thy name 
While earnest in thy praise ; lest they that hear 

Should seek thee absent, and seduce to shame. 

* That is as nymphs are painted, in buskins, that reached 
some way above the ankle, but left the calf of the leg bare. 

+ He cannot refrain from mentioning his mistress, but he 
mentions her under a fictitious name, lest his rivals should 
discover her retreat, and seek to corrupt the innocence of her 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 119 

country life. This passage in the original affords a specimen of 
that closeness of style, and concinnity of expression, which is so 
characteristic of Propertius, and which has occasioned his com- 
mentators so much perplexity. The poor Abbe de Marolles 
is not the only interpreter of Propertius, who is obliged frequently 
to accost us with the marginal condolence, " ce lieu est fort dif- 
ficile." 






1 20 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 



eitw xiv. 

(Lib. II. El. 22.) 



W h y dost thou weep with more abundant tears 
Than shed Briseis from Achilles torn ? 

Why dost thou weep, opprest with gloomier fears 
Than sad Andromache to slavery borne ? 

Why, frantic as thou art, fatigue the skies, 
Of falsehood, of inconstancy complain ? 

Not so the nightingale her murmurs sighs 

Through all th ? Athenian groves in plaintive strain. 

Not Niobe in such a copious flood, 

O'ercome with anguish, shower 'd her bitter tears, 
When on the rock of £ipylum she stood, 

And sadly bent o'er twelve illustrious biers, 

Let brazen bonds my shackled arms restrain, 

Or Danae's iron tower my prison be ; 
For thee, my life ! I'd burst the brazen chain, 

And break through Danae's iron tower to thee. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 121 

To tales of thee a deaf ned ear I turn ; 

Nor thou ray stedfast constancy distrust : 
For by my father's bones, my mother's urn, 

(If I deceive, may anger rouse their dust ;) 

E'en to the shades of death I'll follow thee : 
One truth be ours, and ours one latest day; 

If not thy fame, thy charms a tie could be, 
A surer bond would be thy gentle sway. 

Seven moons have fill'd their orbs, and, o'er and o'er 
Through the throng'd streets our whisper'd names 
have flown; 

Yet on its hinge has turn'd thy yielding door, 
And I have made thy bounteous bed mine own. 

With no rich gifts I bought the blissful night, 

I to thy gracious favour ow'd my lot: 
Though many woo'd, in me was thy delight, 

Can then thy generous nature be forgot ? 

If I forget, stern Furies ! tear my soul ; 

And give, oh iEacus ! thy judgments way ; 
Be mine the slow Sisyphian stone to roll, 

Or lie to Tityus' hovering birds a prey. 

Write no beseeching letters : thou alone 

Shalt share my passion, to the last the same ; 

My constant rule of love, to love but one, 
Not soon to quench, nor rashly light the flame. 



122 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 



<£!egp XV. 

(Lib. II. E1..24.) 



X h o u know'st but yesterday how many a fair 
Shone pleasing in mine eyes with rival charms ; 

Thou knowst, Demophoon, thence flow'd many a care ; 
Still the throng'd games to me are fraught with harms. 

Oh theatres ! erected for my bane 1 

Though his white arms the dancer smoothly twine, 
Or minstrel's lip irabreathe the varied strain, 

To court my wound with wandering gaze is mine ; 

Where sits the snowy nymph, her bosom bare, - 
The stray locks o'er her spotless forehead spread ; 

While India's pearl confines the braided hair, 
In tresses gather'd on her towery head. 

Then if with chill severity of mien 

Some whisper'd, soft request she proud refuse: 
The silent symptoms of despair are seen 

To bathe my brow with cold and trickling dews. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 123 



If kind, consent; if cruel, straight deny; 

Nor wavering lead our hopes with words of air : 
This is the lover's keenest agony 

When dallies with delay the lingering fair 

How does he sighing toss upon his bed, 
When some unknown he deems to him preferr'd, 

Bids the tir'd slave say o'er whate'er he said, 
And dreads to hear, yet hangs on every word. 



124 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 



<SIegp XVI. 

(Lib. II. El. 28). 



On, for my anguish thou art only born, 

Thou beauteous care ! since oft I weep thy scorn, 

By my hard lot excluded from those arms; 

Yet most renown'd shall live thy name and charms, 

In my soft numbers : if, Catullus, thou 

Permit, and Calvus will the boast allow.* 

* Lesbia and her sparrow have been immortalized by Catullus ; 
who has also embalmed the memory of his friend's mistress ia 
his 96th poem, thus elegantly rendered by his translator : 

If ever to the dumb, sepulchral urn, 
The tribute of a tear could grateful prove ; 

What time each recollected scene we mourn, 
Each deed of ancient friendship and of love ; 

Less sure, fond youth, must thy Quinctilia grieve 
That she by death's cold hand untimely fell ; 

Than joys her parted spirit to perceive 
How much her Calvus lov'd her, and how well. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 125 

His comrades and his arms the veteran leaves, 
No more the aged steer the yoke receives ; 
The rotting barks on desert sands remain, 
And the worn shield hangs useless in the fane ; 

Still I persist : lo ! rust can steel decay, 

And gentle droppings wear the flint away : 

Love to the marble threshold clings, nor feels 

The wearing stone; though threaten'd, patient kneels: 

Though wrong'd, pleads guilt 5 implores the foot that 

And loth returning, yet when call'd, returns. [spurns, 

And thou, full-flush 'd with bliss, be taught from me, 

Fond rival ! woman's light inconstancy. 

In the mid-storm who pays his thanks to heaven, 

When oft in port the floating wreck is driven ? 

Who claims the prize, ere seven-times round the goal 

With grazing wheel the kindling chariot roll ? 

In love's fair sky fallacious breezes blow, 

And heavy comes the storm when threatening slow. 

But though she love thee, be thy joy supprest, 

And lock the secret in thy silent breast; 

The boastings of successful passion prove, 

I know not how, injurious oft in love. 

Go once, for many times that she invites : 

Short is the bliss whjch prying envy blights. 

Propertius elsewhere alludes to this monody, of which we cannot 

but regret the ioss ; 

The soft expression Calvus* page betrays, 

Who mourn'd Quinctilia's death in pitying lays. 



126 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

0h ? if the ages past could votaries find, 

And if our nymphs were of that former kind, 

What now thou art, should I unrivalTd be, 

The time's corruption hath supplanted me. 

Not from this age my nature takes its hue ; 

Each has his path, and I my own pursue. 

But thou, whose courtship thus promiscuous roves, 

How must thine eyes be tortur'd by thy loves! 

* Thou seest the face of clear unclouded white, 

Thou seest the dark of hue, and both delight ; 

Charm'd by the shape through Grecian robes display'd, 

By vestures ravish'd of the Roman maid. 

Be russet garments, or the purple worn. 

By both alike thy tender breast is torn. 

One only nymph might well employ thy dreams 5 

One nymph variety of torment seems. 

* Pleno candore; in the full of her brightness ; a lunar meta- 
phor, taken from the clear lustre of the full moon, but hardlj 
translateable. 






ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 127 

®lt$p XVII. 

(Lib. II. EL 31.) 



X 1 a i w mortals ! would ye search with curious eyes 
Death's still- suspended hour, and varied way; 

Scan with Phoenician art the star-light skies, 
And kind or adverse read each planet's ray. 

Britons our fleets* our legions Parthians fly, 
Yet are the perils blind of earth and main; 

Anxious ye rue the tumult gathering nigh 
When joins the battle on the doubtful plain. 

Ye fear lest flames your crashing roofs devour, 

Or livid poison lurk within your bowl; 
The lover only knows his fated hour, 

Nor blasts nor arms give terror to his soul. 

Though now on reedy Styx the oar he ply,* 
Ev'n now the murky sail of Hell survey ; 

Let her he loves recall him with a sigh, 
He shall retrace that unpermitted way. 

* Some have supposed Charon to be meant, but ni defiance 



128 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

of simple construction. The lover is himself the remex. Ther« 
is nothing extraordinary in this, for Virgil also supposes the 
ghosts themselves to ply the oar. /En. vi. 320. 

Say why some trembling shades forsake the shores ? 
Some sweep the livid current with their oars ? 

This circumstance is wholly overlooked in the popular trans- 
lations : 

Why some are ferried o'er, and some refus'd ? Dryden. 

Why are those favour'd ghosts transported o'er, 

And these sad shades chas'd backward from the shore ? 

Pitt. 
Moreover Charon himself is by Virgil equipped, not with an 
oar, but with a pole ; conta; Dryden is here accurate; 
He spreads the canvass, with his pole he steers. 

But the single pole, in Pitt's translation, is, without a shadow 
of propriety, split into oars; 

Himself still plied the oars, the canvas spread* 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 129 

eit$$ xviii. 

(Lib. III. El. 1.) 



Ohade of Callimachus ! and genius blest 

Of Cea's* bard ! I fain your grove would tread : 

I the first priest that fountain pure addrest, 
And Latian rites in Grecian measures led. 

Oh say ! what grot the hallow'd impulse gave 

In gentle sort to modulate your strain? 
What foot auspicious enter'd first the cave, 

Or from what spring ye drank your flowing vein ? 

Let them who list vex Phoebus' ear with arms ; 

Smooth may the numbers glide, whose fame on high 
Lifts me from earth ; my Muse with native charms, 

Drawn by wreathd steeds, in triumph passes by. 

With me the little Loves the car ascend, 

My chariot-wheels a throng of bards pursues ;+ 

Why with loose reins in idle strife contend ? 

Narrow the course which heaven assigns the Muse. 

* Philetas : a native of the isle Cea, Ceos, or Cos, in the Egaean 
sea, now called Zia. 

f The poet makes an abrupt transition from a triumph to a 
chariot»race. 

K 



130 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

Full many, Rome ! shall bid thy annals shine, 
Bid Asian Bactra be thy empire's bound ; 

Mine are the lays of peace, and flowers are mine 
Gather'd on Helicon's untrodden ground. 

Maids of the sacred fount ! with no rude crown, 
But with soft chaplet bind your poet's head ; 

Those honours which th' invidious crowd disown 
While yet I live, shall doubly grace me dead. 

Whate'er the silent tomb hath veil'd in shade 
Shines more august through venerable fame ; 

Time hath the merits of the dead display'd, 
And rescued from the dust a glorious name. 

Who else would know that e'er Troy's towers had bow'd 
To the pine-steed ? that e'er Achilles strove 

With grappling rivers ? that round Ida flow'd 
The stream of Simois, cradling infant Jove ? 

If Hector's blood thrice dyed the wheel-track'd plain ? 

Polydamas — Deiphobus once fell ? 
Or Helenus was number 'd with the slain? 

Scarce his own soil could of her Paris tell. 

Shrunk were thy record, Troy ! whose captur'd wall 
Twice felt th' (Eta*an* god's resistless rage ; 

Nor he the bard that register'd thy fall 
Had left his growing song to every age. 

* Hercules, who burnt himself on Mount (Eta. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS* 131 

Me too shall Rome among her last revere, 
But that far day shall on my ashes rise ; 

No stone a worthless sepulchre shall rear, 
The mean memorial where a poet lies. 

So may the Lycian* god my vows approve ! 

Now let my verse its wonted sphere regain ; 
That, touch'd with sympathies of joy and love, 

The melting nymph may listen to my strain. 

* Apollo, who had an oracle at Patara in Lycia ; its answers 
were termed Lycian fortunes or destinies. Lyciae sortes. 



132 ELEGIES OF PROPERTITJS, 

<giesp xix. 

(Lib. III. El. 2.) 



lis sung that Orpheus with his Thracian tones 

Stay'd the wild herd, and stay'd the troubled flood; 
Mov'd by Amphion's art Cythaeron's stones 
Leap'd into form, and Thebes aspiring stood. 

Beneath rude ^Etna's crag, oh Polypheme ! 

On the smooth deep did Galatsea rein 
Her horses, dropping with the briny stream, 

And wind their course to catch thy floating strain. 

Then if the god of verse, the god of wine, 
Look down propitious, and with smiles approve ; 

What wonder if the fair's applause be mine, 
If thronging virgins list the lays of love ? 

Not round my dome* Taenarian columns rise, 
No roofs of ivory shine with gilded beams ; 

Not with Pbseacia's grove my orchard vies, 
Through my scoop'd grotto purl no Marcian streams. 

* Taenarus, a promontory of Laconia, yielded a very precious 
marble of a green colour. 



ELEGIES OP PROPERTIUS. 133 

But every Muse delights to dwell with me, 

And every reader loves the lays I sing : 
Mine is the boast that ev'n Calliope, 

Till breathless, chants ray numbers to the string. 

Oh, fortunate, fair nymph ! whoe'er thou art, 
That in my gentle so £ shalt honourd be; 

This to each charm can lasting fame impart, 
Each tender verse a monument of thee. 

For not the sumptuous pyramids that rise 
To starry height; the mausolean tomb : 

Jove's fane of Elis, arch'd like yon broad skies — 
Xot these can scape th' irrevocable doom. 

The force of rushing rains, or wasting flame, 

The weight of years may bow their glories down ; 

But genius wins an undecaying name, 

Through ages strong, and deathless in renown. 

Phseacia is the island Corcyra, now Corfu ; the reader of the 
Odyssey will recollect the gardens of Alcinous. 
"The Marcian aqueduct, so called from Ancus Marcius, the 
fourth king of Rome, was celebrated for the purity of its water. 
The aqueducts supplied the Roman gardens with rivulets. 



134 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

<£fagp XX. 

(Lib. III. El. 3.) 



THE DREAM OF PROPERTIUS. 

JMethought, in pleasant Helicon's green shade, 

Where flows the Pegasean fountain, laid \ 

Thy kings, oh Alba ! trembled on my tongue ; 

And to their deeds my daring lyre I strung. 

The mighty stream I then prepar'd to sip 

Where father Ennius slak'd his thirsty lip ; 

The Curian and Horatian spears he sung, 

Th' iEmilian bark with regal trophies hung : 

Fabius' slow conquests ; Cannae's fatal plain ; 

And Heaven by pious tows appeas'd again. 

How Rome's domestic gods with outstretcht might 

Turn'd Annibal's invading arms to flight; 

And how the clam'rous bird with danger strove 

Impending o'er the Capitol of Jove. 

When from a laurel by Castalia's wave, 
Propt on his golden lyre before a cave, 
The god of verse beheld ; and " what," he cried, 
" What rashness led thee to this hallow'd tide?" 
Who bade thy verse heroic honours claim ? 
Not hence, Propertius ! hope the meed of fame. 



ELEGIES OF PROPERT1US. 135 

Through velvet meadows let thy chariot stray, 
And with its lighter wheels imprint the way ; 
That on the couch thy page may oft be thrown 
Where she that waits her lover sighs alone. 
Why quit the ring prescrib'd ?* why with such weight 
The little pinnace of thy genius freight ? 
The seas, the sands, with oar alternate sweep, 
" Safe from the storms that toss the midmost deep." 

His ivory quill then show'd a seat; the way 
O'er path of springing moss, untrodden, lay ; 
Here a green grot with stones was studded round ;t 
The rock's time-fretted vault with timbrels crown'd ; 
Here stood the Muses' forms of earthen mould, 
Pan with Arcadian pipe, Silenus old; 
And the dear doves, light-hovering round their queen, 
Dipp'd the red beak in rills of Hippocrene. 
Each with allotted task the virgin nine 
Ply their fair hands, their various gifts design: 
One wreaths the ivy-lance 5 J another strings 
The lyre, attemper'd to the lay she sings ; 

* This metaphor is taken from the horse or chariot exercises 
in the Roman circus. 

f The construction will admit of " green with the stones af- 
fixed to it." I rather imagine, he speaks of lichened or weed- 
grown stones, naturally attached to the grotto, and inlaying its 
roof and sides with their verdure. 

X He seems to intend a figurative description of the Dithy- 
rambic or Bacchic poetry, the heroical, and the amatory. 



136 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 

The dexterous fingers of a third dispose 
In mingled braid the "white and blushing rose. 
When from the sister-train advanc : d to me 
A nymph, whose aspect spoke Calliope : 

" Let snowy swans for ever waft thy car, 
Not thundering coursers whirl thee to the war. 
Boots not to sound the trumpet's hoarse alarms, 
Invest the Muses' bower with leaguering arms; 
Plant Marius' standard in th' embattled field, 
To Rome's firm shock bid Teuton squadrons yield; 
Or barb'rous Rhine along his waiiing flood 
Roll heaps of Suevian slain, and blush with blood. 
Sing thou the lovers that with garlands crown'd 
Another's doors with am'rous siege surround: 
The revel-rout of fugitives by night, 
* And riot-ensigns of inebriate flight. 
To him the softness of thy lore impart 
Who seeks to dupe a rigid husband's art ; 
And teach him by the magic of a lay 
Despite of bolts to lure the nymph away." 

She said — and o'er my lips the waters threw 
Drawn from the fountain whence Philetas drew. 

* Probably, torches and festive chaplets. 



London : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 
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